


Trouble in Paradise

by Robyn Lynn (RobinDJTSD11)



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Survival, brotherly shenanigans, deserted island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:50:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinDJTSD11/pseuds/Robyn%20Lynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Batfam is going on a nice family vacation; what could go wrong? When Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian crash in the middle of the ocean during a thunderstorm, they find themselves washed up on a deserted island. They'll have to rely on their skills and each other to survive until help arrives. If someone actually finds them, that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Crash

"Drake, wipe that grin off your face."

Tim swiveled around in his chair, trying to hide his smile at his brother's misfortune. The plane had hit a bad spot of turbulence and Damian spilled his cranberry juice all over the front of his pants. Dick was trying to help wipe it off with a napkin and Jason was laughing so hard, he snorted. To say that Damian was unhappy would be an understatement.

"No need to be a sourpuss, Dami," Dick chided. He gave up on getting the stain out and threw the wet napkin at Jason. He deflected the damp projectile and it fell to the floor in a red lump.

"Looks like the little bird is having a heavy flow today," he said and cracked up. "You should probably stick a tampon in it." Dick snorted and Jason high-fived Tim. Damian gave his brothers a look of pure hatred and stuck his nose up at them.

The plane went through another bout of bad turbulence and the cabin rattled. Their suitcases shifted in the overhead bins. Tim looked out the window and saw a flash of lightning brighten the stormy sky for a few seconds before returning it to black nothingness. He looked at his chatty brothers nervously.

They were on their way through this terrible storm for a family vacation in Africa. Bruce had shocked them with the news and Jason still thought that the old man was planning some kind of Batman related mission; the boys had brought their suits in case an emergency arose. Trouble seemed to follow them everywhere, no matter where they went.

Bruce said that they needed time off to reconnect and since he had a meaningless Wayne Enterprises meeting in Cape Town, he thought it was the perfect opportunity to take advantage of the locale and take a break from the hero business.

_"Think of it as a training exercise. This will help our teamwork tremendously and give your bodies a much needed rest." The Batcave was filled with silence. A drop of water resonated through the cave, punctuating the silence. The shocked heroes looked at their father-figure with confusion._

_"So, we, as a family, are going on a holiday?" Damian asked slowly. Bruce nodded and smiled at his youngest son._

_"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Bruce Wayne," Dick demanded. Tim crossed his arms and nodded in affirmation towards Dick's comment; Bruce chuckled._

_"Don't worry, it's me. Alfred agreed with my idea and with Stephanie and Oracle here in Gotham, they'll be able to keep control of the city while we're gone," he said._

_"Jason is welcome to come too, if you convince him," he added after a moment. "I think the male side of the family should be all together for once."_

_No one argued with him on that._

Dick, of course, was over the moon, while Damian whined about being stuck with a bunch of imbeciles. Tim, although skeptical, was really looking forward to the trip. He had even managed to coerce Jason to tag along with promises of high-tech weapons and expensive alcohol. Though, Tim did have to use an embarrassing picture of Jason as a threat before the ex-Robin to agreed to come and be on his best behavior.

Tim just couldn't wait to relax and spend time with his family.

The four of them were dressed in casual clothes. Jason was in jeans and a black t-shirt, Tim and Dick in khakis and a sweater—Red and blue respectively—and Damian in jeans and a green button down shirt. They had gotten on the plane in their winter coats, even though they were heading off to sunny Africa, because Gotham was in the middle of one of its famous frigid winters. They almost froze to death on the walk from the car to the plane. Once onboard, the brothers did shed their heavy jackets and sat comfortably in the climate controlled cabin.

"Dick, how much farther until we get to Cape Town?" His brother looked at his watch.

"We'll probably arrive in, like, two hours and Bruce will probably get in five hours after we do with Alfred," he replied. Jason was making faces at Damian and Damian was throwing ice cubes at Jason. Dick tried to be the mature one and intervene by flicking the troublemakers in the ear.

Tim smiled at his brothers' antics and turned back to face the window. It was almost noon, but the thunderstorm made the sky seem as if it was night time. Lightning flashed again in the blackening distance and the plane tilted towards the right and shook back and forth again. The pilot of Bruce's luxury jet spoke over the intercom, silencing the bickering.

"Excuse me, gentlemen. I advise you to fasten your seatbelts and remain in your seats. We are going to pass through some heavy wind and hail. It shouldn't be too bad, but nonetheless, remain seated." All four boys made sure their seatbelts were secured and fastened tightly. They stared at each other silently. Dick was the one to finally break it.

"Wait for it, Little D. The turbulence is going to feel like we're on a rollercoaster!" Damian 'tted' at his older brother's silly response, while Tim face palmed when Dick threw up his arms, acting like a passenger on an actual roller coaster.

The plane hit the brunt of the storm at that moment and shook the boys in their seats. If they had not been buckled in, then they probably would have smacked their heads on the ceiling. Hail beat upon the plane and filled the inside with the sound of its loud ferocity. The lights flickered; the boys looked at each other uneasily. The intensity of the hail increased and the wind howled outside the aircraft, while lightning snaked around the plane.

At that moment, a flash of light and a thunderous BOOM cracked through the air as a lucky lightning bolt hit the wing of the unlucky plane right in front of Tim's window. All four boys gasped in unison and Tim tried to rub the spots out of his eyes from the intensity of the lightning strike. Hail continued to beat mercilessly against the now smoking engine. The jet dropped a few meters in altitude before the pilot's voice crackled through the speakers again.

"It seems like our right engine has taken a beating and can no longer support us in the air." The pilot sounded slightly frantic, but was trying to gain control over the situation. "There are life vests in the compartment underneath your seats and oxygen masks will drop down shortly. The emergency exits are located on the wings of th-"

The speaker cut off as the airplane nose dived towards the violent ocean far beneath them. Yellow masks dropped down from compartments in the ceiling and the boys quickly put them on. Tim finished tying his and looked up at his brothers who were staring, terrified, at each other. Jason and Damian gripped the arms of their seat, while Dick was gesturing at Damian's oxygen mask. The tube had disconnected from the ceiling and was not providing any oxygen. Tim screwed his eyes shut and prayed to whoever was listening, that they'd make it out of this alive.

The plane hit the water sharply, cockpit first, jerking Tim forward and then slamming him back against the seat. He blacked out with the sound of water rushing into the cabin and his last thought before losing consciousness, _what a great start to our family vacation._


	2. Survival

Dick was panicking. Their luxury jet had fallen out of the sky, Damian's yellow oxygen mask had disconnected from the air flow, and now two of his brothers might possibly be dead because they were not showing any signs of moving. Jason, meanwhile, was struggling to undo his seat belt with a string of curses.

The crash was one of the most frightening things he had ever experienced and he worked with The Batman. He didn't scream, so much as close his eyes and yell in a very manly way—Jason totally screeched, though. Then the plane had met the roiling ocean. All the lights went out and the jet made a horrible crunching sound as the cockpit was crushed like an empty soda can.

Dick thought that they had died—the whiplash almost killed him and he was sure he had blacked out for a moment or two. When the lights came back on, panic and dread sat like a rock at the bottom of his stomach.

"Tim! Damian!" He shouted frantically at his younger brothers. Water was rushing into the cabin, swirling around their ankles. The plane was sinking nose first and an incline was forming. The lights shut off for a couple seconds before flickering back on.

Tim groaned from his seat, much to Dick's relief. He opened his eyes and held his hand to a bleeding cut on the back of his head. Dick ripped off his seat belt and sloshed through the icy water to his youngest brother. Damian had passed out during their descent because of his faulty oxygen mask. Dick, ever the worried older brother, quickly checked for signs of life.

Feeling a steady heartbeat, Dick released a shaky breath and set to work on freeing the kid. Damian didn't wake up so Dick picked the little boy up and cradled him in his arms. Jason had gotten free of his seatbelt and was helping Tim up.

The water was now up to their thighs.

"Jay, go see if the pilots are okay!" He shouted over the rushing water and creaking metal. Jason nodded and left Tim leaning against his chair before splashing over to the cockpit.

"Grab the flotation thingy under your seat, Timmy," Dick ordered to the dazed boy. Tim shook his head as if to clear it and bent down to retrieve the orange item. Concussion, Dick thought to himself. He was glad that it seemed like the only serious injury, though his neck was pretty sore. Jason sloshed back to the other boys looking worried.

"There's no way those guys are alive. The front looks like it was crushed and it's almost filled up with water," he told Dick. Dick closed his eyes and quickly ran through their options.

"Put on your life vests. We gotta get out of the plane." The boys obeyed, thankfully without their usual snark, and Dick helped the unconscious boy in his arms with his before putting on his own orange vest.

The water was now up to their hips as they made their way up to the emergency exit door. The plane was sinking nose first at a tilted angle so the emergency doors were exposed to the open air, making them possible to open. Jason handed him Tim before shouldering the door open. The outside ocean was still storming and the waves were smashing into the half submerged plane relentlessly. One wing of the plane had been broken off and was now floating slowly away from the boys, leaving jagged edges of metal and sparking wires below the door.

"Jason, you jump down first and I'll throw Tim and Damian down to you. We're gonna swim to the wing," he shouted above the roaring wind.

"Are you crazy? That's almost a ten foot drop!" Jason shouted back.

"The plane's sinking and we're going to sink with it if we don't get far enough away." The jet shook when a wave hit it and then the lights shut off completely, leaving them in the dark. Only the frequent flashes of lightning provided them with light.

Jason opened his mouth to argue again, but thought better of it and jumped into the swirling ocean below. He disappeared under the water for a moment; Dick and Tim held their breath. He resurfaced and bobbed in the water, his bright orange life vest making it possible to see him in the stormy gloom. Another flash of lightning appeared in the clouds above and a crash of thunder soon followed.

Dick let go of the breath he had been holding and nodded at Tim. The younger boy held his nose and jumped in, disappearing and resurfacing just like his brother. Jason pushed Tim towards the airplane wing that was floating away from the jet and turned back towards Dick.

"Ready?" Dick called to his waiting brother and Jason held his hands out. Dick gave Damian a quick squeeze before dropping him. Jason caught him easily and held him above the water. He motioned at Dick to follow and swam after Tim, who was already seated on the metal wing and looking worriedly at his brothers.

Thinking quickly, Dick waded his way back down to their seats, feeling his way down the aisle. The water was rising with each passing second; the howling wind and screaming metal of the broken aircraft barely registered above the noise of his racing heart. He threw open the overhead compartments and grabbed the two closest bags, not taking any notice of what they looked like or who they belonged to. He hauled the bags, filled with whoever's gear and necessities, to the exit. Once there, he steadied himself against the side of the bobbing plane.

Dick was about to jump into the sea, but spotted a prodigious wave bearing down on the Jason and the still unconscious Damian. He screamed at his brothers and Tim, spotting the wave, yelled desperately at the swimming birds. Their voices were lost in a roar of thunder. Jason stopped at stared at the approaching giant. He clutched Damian closer and closed his eyes. The wave crushed them and they disappeared from view.

Dick slipped from his position when the wave collided the plane and, as an instinct, let go of the bags and grabbed at the edge where the jagged metal was. The metal sliced into his hands and arms, and with a yelp of pain, he let go and continued his fall into the icy ocean water. The air in his lungs rushed out of his mouth in a  _whoosh_  of bubbles as the salty water stung his cuts.

He burst through the surface spluttering, looking around frantically for his brothers. He wasn't sure if they had resurfaced or not. He was relieved to see Jason hauling Damian up on the floating metal before retching water back into the ocean. Tim patted his brother on the back, while Damian sat up and looked confused. Dick couldn't see very well through the veil of rain that continued to pelt the boys and the rolling ocean.

The vigilante pushed himself to swim towards his waiting brothers, his injuries screaming in agony from the salty water. He grabbed hold of the two bags that had, miraculously, stayed near him through his fall and dragged them behind him. It was hard work making his way through the waves and rain with the added baggage, but he finally reached the other boys, who pulled him and the luggage up on makeshift raft. It was now submerged a little under the water because of the extra weight. Dick laid there for a few moments to catch his breath.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked Jason, who was still coughing up water. He nodded and pointed at Damian.

"The little demon sunk me when I tried to keep him above the water," he managed to croak out.

"What about you, Timmy?"

"I'll live," he said, helping Jason sit up.

Dick crawled over to his youngest brother, who was staring in shock at the sinking plane. He tapped the little bird on the shoulder before pulling him into a hug.

"What the hell happened while I was out?" he asked. Dick chuckled before looking back towards the jet through sheets of rain almost obscuring his view.

The back half of the aircraft was splitting apart from the submerged part, shrieking and grinding. It fell to the water with a thunderous splash. The waves caused by the fall propelled the four boys away from the crash site. The wind still howled around them and the rain stung their frozen skin; they huddled together for warmth and comfort, though after this incident they would all vehemently deny that this cuddling had ever happened.


	3. Drifting

Jason hugged his knees and gazed out into the ocean. The thunderstorm, having run it’s course, gave way to a clear, starry night. He had to admit that, away from the light pollution of the big city, the night sky was breathtaking.

They had been floating on their makeshift raft for a couple hours now, waiting for someone to come up with a plan. So far, they had none. Tim had told him the approximate time, around one in the morning; Jason’s watch had shorted out in the water. Tim also told him that they were somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic—around the 20 degree longitude line—judging from the position of the constellations. Jason just nodded and stared at the ocean when he went into more in-depth detail about the Earth’s rotation and how early sailors navigated by the stars.

Dick and Damian were cuddling on the other side of the wing, keeping warm, a light breeze nipping at their exposed skin. They had dozed off a while ago and neither Jason nor Tim had the heart to wake them. Dick had ripped off pieces of his shirt to wrap around the gashes on his hands. If they weren’t careful, those cuts would become infected.

The suitcases sat in the middle of the raft, but no one felt like going through them quite yet. They were still in shock.

Jason was already over the plane crash and being stranded at sea—stranger things had happened to him. Now, he was extremely bored. He almost wished a shark would try to eat them so he would at least have something to do.

“Do you think they’re looking for us yet?” Tim asked. He already knew the answer, but was just tired of the silence. Even the waves were quietly lapping at the edges of the raft, slowly pushing them through the water.

“No. Bruce’ll probably start when he lands, but our chances are zip unless a miracle happens,” Jason said. Tim rubbed his face and hugged his knees like Jason, resting his cheek on the tops and studying the ocean. Jason suppressed a shiver. “It’s fucking cold out here.”

The boys were soaked to the bone from the combination of the rain and the swim they had taken to get to their raft. Damian shivered and snuggled closer to Dick. The little demon was almost adorable when he was unconscious.

“The sun should be up in a couple hours. It’ll warm up pretty quick after that."

Jason looked up at the sky. So far, he hadn't seen any airplanes cutting through the black and no ships had sailed by. It was as if the four brothers were the last people on Earth.

“This would happen to us,” Jason said, suddenly. Tim squinted his eyes, trying to see his brother in the dark.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re superheroes. We’ve fought mobsters and aliens, but a normal ass plane crash is going to be the one thing to take us down. It’s just our luck,” he said. Tim rolled his eyes so that even Jason could see it in the dark from where he was sitting.

“Don’t be so melodramatic. Plane crashes aren’t that normal and we’re also the sons of a billionaire. There’s going to be a massive manhunt and I wouldn’t be surprised if Superman showed up to help. We just have to survive until they find us.” Jason would have said something negative, just to rile Tim up--he was that bored--but he spotted something off in the distance.

“Do you see that?”

“See what?” Tim asked. Jason pointed and Tim’s eyes widened. “Is that an island?”

A black smudge on the horizon grew bigger with each passing second. Feathery shapes detached themselves from the gloom to form the outlines of palm trees. Jason crawled over to his sleeping brothers.

“Yo, Dickiebird. Wake up!” Dick blinked up at him.

“Wha’?”

“Land ahoy,” Jason said, grinning. Dick shot up, almost knocking heads with Jason, and untangled himself from Damian. The younger boy rolled over and continued sleeping.

“Is there really? Where?” Tim pointed at the growing shape in the distance and motioned for Dick to come closer to him.

“We need to paddle towards it somehow,” Tim said, rubbing his temples in thought. “Tearing metal sheets off the wing won’t work. We’ll have to use our bodies as paddles instead.”

“Someone’s gotta push the raft to shore," Jason clarified, not liking the idea.

“What’s going on?” A drowsy voice questioned them. Jason turned to the youngest Robin, but Dick beat him to it.

“There’s an island in the distance, Lil’ D.” Damian’s head followed Dick’s outstretched arm.

“How are we going to get there?” He asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Jason and I are going to get in the water and push, while you guys navigate,” Tim said.

“Hold up now, why do I have to get in the water?” Jason complained.

“Because you’re the strongest out of all of us and Dick’s injured, so suck it up.”

Jason grumbled to himself before removing his shirt and boots and sliding into the frigid water. He yelped in surprise; he was not expecting the water to be _that_ cold. He grumbled under his breath and took back his wish for a shark to pick a fight with them.

Jason grabbed hold of the slippery metal wing, making sure he had a good grip. He looked up at Tim. “What are you waiting for, Replacement?”

Tim rolled his eyes and removed his boots, opting to keep his shirt on, before joining Jason in the water. He teeth chattered with the cold, but otherwise he gave no indication that he was uncomfortable.

“You guys good?” Dick asked, looking down at them.

“Just peachy,” Jason replied, glaring.

“Then start kicking, you imbeciles.” That earned Damian a glare from both Jason and Tim.

The two brothers kicked their legs and slowly pushed the makeshift raft forward. They continued in silence for a couple minutes until Jason began muttering curses under his breath. Tim sighed, but otherwise focused on the task at hand.

Minutes passed. A half hour went by.

“Are we there yet,” Jason called out. He was definitely _not_ wheezing, but he was getting close.

“Yeah, it’s only a couple hundred yards out now,” Dick said, sleepily.

“Describe it to us,” Tim said.

“It’s, uh, pretty small,” Dick continued. “Definitely smaller than Hawaii, but still decent sized.”

“What’s on it, Dick?” Tim said, sounding a little frustrated.

“Oh, there’s a long beach and a lot of palm trees and a little mountain-slash-hill in the middle of the jungle.” Jason’s attitude instantly brightened at the mention of the palm trees. Palm trees were good—they meant food.

“Any sign of freshwater?” Tim questioned.

“There does not appear to be any, but if there is a forest, there must be some form of a water source,” Damian answered.

The boys quieted down, lost in their own thoughts. No water was a very, very bad thing. Jason’s body felt like lead from the exertion of the swim and his tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth. He was desperately thirsty, now that he thought about it. He was tempted to drink the salty ocean water, but the fact that the water would probably kill him instead of relieving his thirst was enough to dissuade him.

Jason opened his mouth to complain, but snapped it shut with an audible click. Tim looked at him, bewildered. Something had brushed up against Jason’s leg. Something big. He stopped kicking and tried to slow his breathing down.

“What is it?”

“Something hit my leg,” he whispered. Tim’s eyes widened and looked down fearfully.

“Dick, how far away are we?” He asked, his voice strained. The thing hit Jason’s leg again and he gulped, trying not to panic.

“We’re really close, Timmy. Like fifty yards out,” Dick answered peeking over the side at them. He took in the sight of his two brothers, pale and rigid, not moving at all. “What's wrong? Are you guys okay?”

Tim ignored him, “Jason, did you feel it again?” Jason nodded, face ashen. “Okay, I felt it too. It might be a shark.”

“Guys... I think I see a fin,” Dick said. Tim and Jason looked at each other and scrambled onto the raft. Dick and Damian help them up as the approaching fin, no, fins reach the boys. Then a dolphin popped its head above the water while its friends circled around the wing. It chirped curiously, swimming closer for a better look.

“You’re right, Drake. It’s such a terrifying creature. It could rip us all to shreds,” Damian said, rolling his eyes. The dolphin spit water from its mouth and hit Damian square in the face before laughing with high pitched squeaks and following its family underneath the waves.

Tim, Dick, and Jason were silent for a moment before they burst out laughing. Damian huffed and wiped the water out of his eyes, then crossed his arms and scowled at his brothers. By the time the wing scraped against the sandy beach, they were doubled over, crying. The jolt from hitting land sobered them up, however, and they quickly hopped off.

“Land! Oh, how I’ve missed you.” Dick flopped to his stomach and kissed the ground.

“I think he drank too much seawater,” Jason stage whispered to Tim and made the crazy sign with his finger.

“Shut it, Jay,” Dick said, getting up and brushing the sand from his damp pant legs.

“What are we going to do now?” Damian asked, appearing by Jason’s side. Jason jumped in the air, cursing; he had not heard the little bird sneak up on him.

“It’s too dark to do anything,” Tim answered, lying down on the white sand. He crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. “We should get some sleep before the sun comes up. We can explore then.”

“Who’s going to keep watch?” Jason asked. His muscles ached from the long swim and his throat screamed for some water.

“Are you afraid something’s going to eat you, Todd,” Damian taunted. Jason glared at his younger brother and Dick intervened before the situation could get ugly.

“I’ll take first watch. I slept on the raft.”

“Are you sure, Dick?” Tim asked, opening his eyes and sitting up. “You hurt your hands pretty bad.”

“Just a scrape, Timmy. Now go to sleep,” he ordered. Tim shrugged and laid back down. Damian did the same, curling up a couple feet away from his older brother. “Jay come help me.”

Jason followed Dick back to the raft and grabbed his t-shirt. It was mostly dry so he put it back on, glad that he had the foresight to take it off before he jumped in the water.

“Help me drag this on to the sand before it washes away.” Dick grabbed one end and Jason the other. They dragged it backwards, onto the beach, their arms straining.

After a couple grunts and a few choice words, the metal wing was safely out of reach of the tide. Dick grabbed the suitcases he had salvaged from the wreck and sat down with them near his sleeping brothers. Tim was snoring quietly, his mouth hanging slightly open, and the demon spawn was curled up like a cat. Jason had the strange urge to pet his head.

“What’s in the cases?”

“I don’t know yet,” Dick answered looking up at Jason. “I just grabbed the two closest bags. I’ll go through them while you guys grab a couple of hours.”

“Okay, just don’t think you can horde the good stuff for yourself while I’m not looking,” Jason warned, laying down next to Tim. “If it’s my bag, I know what I packed.”

“Go to sleep, Jason,” Dick said, rolling his eyes and then he smirked. “I’ll make sure no sharks come and eat you during the night.”

“Oh, bite me, Grayson.” Dick chuckled and Jason closed his eyes. The sounds of crashing waves washed over him and soon he was sucked into a dark, dreamless sleep.

 


	4. The Search

"What do you mean the plane crashed?" Bruce asked.

He was pretty sure the policeman in front of him was playing some sort of practical joke. His jet was state of the art and top of the line. There was no way it could simply crash.

“We received a mayday from the pilot, but there was too much static from the storm to make it out clearly and then the transmission cut out shortly before the plane hit the water. We’re sending out a rescue team now.”

Bruce stared at the man, panic knocking any coherent thoughts out of his mind. He and Alfred had landed twenty minutes ago and they had barely taken two steps into the stifling African heat when they were intercepted by airport security and brought to a small, hot room. He had feared that his boys had accidentally killed each other on the way over or the police had found the weapons Jason brought with him—even though it was supposed to be a family vacation.

It was much worse than he thought.

“Thank you very much,” Alfred said, interrupting Bruce’s inner dialogue and saving him from embarrassment. “Please, let us know if you need any help with the search or if you find any useful information.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said and opened the door. He turned back towards the two men with a look of sympathy. “I’ll have some officers escort you to your hotel. We’ll keep the press at bay in the meantime, Mister Wayne.” He shut the door, leaving the two men alone.

“Master Bruce, is there anyway you can track the boys?” Alfred asked, turning his attention back to his employer. He was, of course, referring to the tracking devices he had put on all of the Robins, past and present.

“If they survived, the water would have shorted out the trackers and Tim probably found and destroyed his before they boarded the plane," he replied.

"Do you think this was an act of foul play?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "If it is, I will find out who’s responsible."

He took out his phone and punched in a number before putting it to his ear. He glanced around the room, looking for security cameras. Satisfied with finding none, he relaxed, some tension leaving his shoulders, while the phone rang.

"Hello?" A voice on the other side of the phone said.

"Clark," Bruce said in greeting. "I need your help."

"What is it? What happened?” Clark questioned.“I thought you were on vacation." He sounded worried. In the background, Bruce could hear the din of the Daily Planet fade as his friend climbed the stairs to the rooftop where he could speak in private, without any nosy journalists listening in on the conversation.

"We were, but the boys' plane crashed on the way over here. I need you to find them."

There was a rustling on the other side. "I'll be right there."

"You can’t be seen here with me as Superman or Clark Kent. That’ll raise too many questions. I'm sending you the coordinates of their last known location. Let me know if you find anything." Bruce hung up and quickly texted his friend the coordinates the security officer had given him.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. So much for a relaxing break from crime and tragedy, he thought. Alfred placed a comforting hand on his employer’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Mast Bruce; we’ll find them. If anyone can survive a plane crash, it’ll be our boys.”

“I just hope they can survive each other,” he said. “They all have their demons and most of the time they can’t stand being around the family. Cooperation is essential and they can’t work together if the heightened stress makes them want to slit each other’s throats.”

“Maybe this little excursion will help solve some of those problems.”

“Mister Wayne, Mister Pennyworth? The car’s here.” The voice interrupted the conversation. The escort was ready to take the two men to their hotel room for the night. From there, Bruce could set up camp and figure out how and why the plane crashed. Bruce turned towards his butler and clapped a hand on the old man’s shoulder.

“I hope so, Alfred. I hope so.”

 

* * *

 

Clark circled one last time around the area Bruce had told him to look. The plane was easy enough to find, nestled at the bottom of the ocean, the marine life already beginning to claim the wreckage as their own. He found the mangled remains of the pilots, but no sign of the boys. Clark left the bodies for the search and rescue team to find; they were only a few miles out from the site.

He followed a trail of debris drifting in the current, but saw no indication of where the Robins had gone. He noticed that the wing of the jet was missing and guessed that they used that as a raft. Other than that, there were no clues. Bruce had not told him the reason the plane crashed, but he was able to rule out an outside enemy because there were no bullet holes or damage that would match a weapon.

Frustrated with his lack of success, Clark flew in an outwards spiral from the crash site, scouring the ocean. He could not hear the sound of breathing separate from the rescuers on the boat, which meant the boys were not in the vicinity. He would not let himself even consider the possibility that they had died. With the lives they lived, a plane crash was on the bottom of the list of things they had to worry about. His hope for their survival was supported by the fact that there were no bodies.

But it was like they had disappeared without a trace.

Giving up, Clark stopped in midair and pulled out his cellphone. He dialled Bruce and braced himself for the tirade that would come. A bird squawked at him as it flew by towards land.

“What did you find,” the brusque voice demanded when Bruce picked up.

“You’re not going to like this,” Clark began. His red cape flapped in the salty breeze. He would have to have Ma wash the sea smell out of it when he got home. “I found the plane and the two dead pilots, but there was no sign of the boys or where they could have gone. The plane didn’t look like it had been shot at and there is no sign of the bodies.”

“Are you telling me they’ve disappeared?” Bruce asked coldly. “People don’t just disappear, Clark.”

“I can’t find them, Bruce. Have you tried their trackers or something?”

“I’m not getting a signal from any of the trackers I placed on them.”

“Maybe the locals will be able to help more than I can,” Clark said, sadly. He didn’t like not being useful. “I’m sorry, Bruce. I wish there was more I could do.”

“See if Lois knows anything about crime in the area. DIdn’t she write an article about human trafficking in the area a couple of months ago?”

“Yes she did! I’ll see if she knows anything. Anything specific I should ask her?”

“No. I just have a theory, but I need all the information I can get,” Bruce said, distracted.

“Alright. I’ll get back to you soon. I hope you find them.” With that, Clark ended the call and put away his phone.

He glanced once more at the rolling ocean, wishing it would somehow divulge all of its secrets to him. With an exasperated sigh, Clark turned himself towards Metropolis and flew home.

 


	5. A Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. It's been a while. Hopefully the extra long chapter makes up for my abscence!

Damian woke to the sun on his face, sand in his pants, and a very, very dry mouth. For a moment, he forgot what had happened and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Waves lapped at the edge of the shoreline, providing a soothing background noise to his brothers’ bickering. He rolled his eyes and stood up.

Brushing the sand from his clothes, Damian looked around. With the light of day, the details of the island were fully visible. The beach was about half a mile long in either direction from where he stood, with each side disappearing as the island curved. Dense foliage—of palm trees and other plants he didn’t recognize right away—rose like a wall where the sand ended and the jungle began. Birds chirped and monkeys screeched and somewhere, he could hear the faint rushing of a stream.

“Lil’ D you’re awake! Come over here.” Damian turned towards Dick, who gestured wildly at him. He looked paler than usual, but that could have just been from keeping watch the night before.

Jason and Tim were fighting over something Damian couldn’t see, pulling it back and forth between each other like tug-o-war. It made him sweat just by watching them move around so much; the sun beat down relentlessly, though it was only morning.

“What are you imbeciles bickering about this time?” He asked. Jason opened his mouth to say something, but Tim took that moment to wrench the object from his brother’s grasp and put some distance between them.

“This is my toothbrush, Jason. It came from my suitcase, so I’m the one that gets to use it,” Tim said, hiding behind Dick.

“That’s not how this works, Tiny Tim. I’ll buy you a new one when we get home, but right now my mouth tastes like sand and crap.”

He dove towards Tim, but ended up tackling Dick to the ground instead. Tim passed by Damian in his haste to get out of the way and tripped when his youngest brother stuck out a leg. The toothbrush went flying as Tim hit the sand and Damian caught it easily.

“How ‘bout nobody gets to use it,” Dick muttered, clambering to his feet and reaching for the toothbrush. Damian gave it up willingly. “Now can we go through the rest of the suitcases without somebody having uncontrollable grabby hands?”

Tim and Jason grumbled, but sat down opposite each other, glaring daggers the entire time. Damian “tted” and sat down in front of Dick.

“What did I miss?”

“Well, you didn’t miss much, Dami. The two suitcases I saved were mine and Tim’s so now we have to take inventory,” Dick answered.

Damian looked down at the two suitcases in the middle. It looked like they had already been rifled through and he guessed that Dick had gone through the items himself while they were all asleep.

“Anything useful?” He asked.

“Not counting the weapons Jason most likely has concealed somewhere on his body, we have five knives, a couple batarangs, Red Robin’s utility belt and suit, Nightwing’s suit and my escrima sticks, a useless cellphone, a useless computer, two toothbrushes, a couple of granola bars, and a flashlight.”

“Who brings a flashlight,” Jason muttered under his breath, looking at Tim.

“I like to be prepared,” he informed his brother.

“Did anybody check the tracers in the suits?” Damian asked. Tim rolled his eyes.

“Of course I did, but the signal isn’t transmitting anything.”

“-Tt- Don’t you think you should find out the cause?”

“Listen here, you little—” Tim began, but was interrupted by Dick.

“Quiet, both of you.” He gave them all pointed looks. “We’re stranded for however long it takes Bruce or the coast guard to find us. I wouldn’t be surprised if Batman hasn’t pulled in a favor and gotten Superman to comb the ocean for the wreckage. But in the meantime, we need to work together to survive. Forget all the other rivalries and petty grudges; we need to be a team. Or we’re never going to make it off this island alive.”

The brothers looked at each other warily.

“Okay,” Tim said, eyeing Damian with distrust. He returned the glare.

“I guess,” Jason grumbled. They all looked at Damian now.

Even though he wanted nothing better than to punch each and every one of them in the face, he said, “Fine.”

“Alright, now that that’s out of the way,” Dick said, clapping his hands together enthusiastically and then wincing. “We need to find shelter, food, and water; not necessarily in that order.”

“There is running water nearby,” Damian said. “You can hear it if you listen closely.”

“Okay, then you and Jason can go and find it.” Dick ignored the spluttering refusals and turned to Tim. “Timmy, you build a shelter and I’ll go look for food.”

“Wait a minute,” Jason said, interrupting Tim’s reply. “Why do I have to go with the little demon?”

“I don’t want to go with Todd either,” Damian added. “His stupidity might be catching.”

Dick sighed and rubbed his temples. “Fine, I’ll go with Damian. Jason, you can go find food. Everybody grab a knife and we’ll meet back here around—” he squinted at the sun, hovering low in the sky. “Around noon.”

 

* * *

 

Dick and Damian trudged through the jungle, following the sound of water. Low-hanging branches grabbed at them as they went by. Curious monkeys and nosy birds watched as they passed, safe, up high in their trees. The morning heat pressed upon them from all sides, slightly suffocating. Bugs whined in their ears and while Damian ignored the buzzing, Dick slapped at his skin in earnest.

By the time they made it to the small stream, they were both drenched in sweat. Dick knelt down and splashed water over his face and arms, breathing heavy from the exertion. Damian frowned at his older brother, studying him worriedly.

“You shouldn’t drink that yet,” Damian said quietly. His mouth was dry and his throat burned, but he knew of the dangers of unclean water.

“I know the drill, Lil’ D,” he said, winking at his youngest brother. He sat on his haunches, pale and sweaty, looking at the water. “We gotta figure out how to haul this back to the beach so we can boil it. Something like that.”

“That’s for salt water,” Damian remarked. He twisted the knife in his hands and looked curiously at their surroundings. “And we don’t have anything to hold the water to boil it.”

“Then we can just drink the water and cross our fingers that we don’t get sick and die.”

“-Tt- We’ll let Drake try it first and if he dies then we know not to drink it.”

“Dami,” Dick warned. Damian put his hands up in a placating gesture, though the knife did not help. He tucked it into the waistband of his dirty pants.

“I was only kidding, Grayson. I’ll drink the water.” He knelt down and cupped a handful of water, quickly gulping it down before Dick could stop him.

“Damian! What the hell?”

Dick grabbed the boy’s face and looked for any signs of illness, twisting it from side to side. Damian “tted” and shook his brother off.

“We’ll know in a few hours if it’s safe to drink,” he replied. His eyes narrowed on Dick’s hastily wrapped hands. “Let me see your wounds.”

“It’s only a scratch,” Dick muttered, but Damian had already grabbed his brother by the wrist and was unwrapping the makeshift bandage.

When he reached the skin underneath, he blanched. The wounds were red and puffy, hot to the touch, angry with infection. Damian gently touched one cut and Dick hissed in pain, snatching his hand back. He wrapped the cloth around the gashes and tied it with his teeth.

“That does not look good.”

“Thank you, Doctor Wayne. I’ll be sure to come back to you for medical advice in the future,” Dick said sarcastically. Then he grew serious. “Don’t worry about it, Lil’ D. There’s nothing we can do about it and our energy should be focused on staying alive.”

Damian frowned, but said nothing. He was nauseas, not from the water, but from the worry for his older brother gnawing at his stomach. Despite the worry, Damian’s stomach growled. Dick laughed.

“Come on, let’s head back and see if Jay found any food. I’ll give you a piggy-back ride!”

“Grayson, if you attempt such a ludicrous thing, I will not hesitate to dismember you.”

Dick laughed and moved to grab Damian when something caught his eye. Damian followed his brother’s gaze and stooped down to pick up the item. He brushed the dirt off and held it up to the light trickling down through the leaves.

Dick looked at it, confused. “A cigarette carton? What’s that doing here?”

Damian looked around them into the foliage, searching for danger.

“We might not be alone.”

 

* * *

 

Tim stepped back and admired his handiwork. He had managed to build a lean-to on the beach with twigs and palm leaves, only armed with his knife. It would easily shelter the four of them and keep out any uninvited rain.

He wiped the sweat out of his eyes and looked up at the sun. It was now high in the sky, almost noon.

“Where is everybody?” he asked himself.

Crashing sounds and muttered curses reached his ears and he slipped into a defensive stance as Jason tumbled out of the forest, arms laden with coconuts and bananas. He had several scratches on his face and he glowered at the tree line.

“What happened to you?” Tim asked, straightening up and taking the food from his brother’s hands. He placed it in the shade next to Jason, frowning; he needed to build a box to hold their food next.

“Freaking monkeys,” he snarled and sat underneath the lean-to in an angry huff.

Tim, not prepared for his answer, took one look at Jason’s expression and lost it, gasping for breath as he laughed.

“It’s not funny!” Jason exclaimed. “The little bastards ganged up on me when I tried to take the bananas.”

“Sorry, Jay,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. “You should see your face; priceless.”

“Har, har, har,” Jason muttered. He took a coconut and carved a hole in the top with his knife. “My mouth is so fucking dry right now.”

“I know, mine too,” Tim said, sitting next to his brother.

He grabbed a coconut and cut it open with his own knife. They drank the milk inside quickly, savoring the cool sensation wash over their parched tongues. Jason burped and threw his empty shell into the jungle. He laid down, putting his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling of the lean-to.

“What I wouldn’t give for a cigarette right now.”

“We might die on a deserted island and that’s what you’re worried about?” Tim asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Happy thoughts, Tiny Tim.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t Dick and Damian be back by now?” Jason sat up, staring into the jungle.

“Do you think we should look for them?”

“I don’t know,” Tim said. He put his coconut on the sand and wrapped his arms around his knees. “There’s something off about this island. It feels weird.”

“Weird how?” Jason asked.

“Like we’re not the first people to step foot on this beach.”

“Oh, come on,” Jason complained. “Don’t go all Lost on me. Of course we haven’t been the only ones here before. Locals probably come here all the time and there’s probably a fancy resort on the other side of the island. The Black Smoke isn’t gonna come and eat us.”

“Whatever, Jay,” Tim said, annoyed, brushing the sand off his pants before pacing in front of his brother. “All I’m saying is we should have been found already, but the tracers in our suits aren’t working. Water doesn’t affect them—they’re waterproof—and they seem to be on, but it doesn’t look like anything’s transmitting.”

“Then we should figure out what the problem is and fix it. Doesn’t seem so hard.”

“If it’s so easy, why haven’t you done it yet?”

“Hey, I’m not the brains of this operation, baby bird,” Jason said, shrugging. “I’m more of the devilishly handsome brawn of the team.” He winked.

Tim groaned.

“Hey!” Tim’s head snapped towards the sound. Dick and Damian stepped out of the shadows, onto the beach. Dick waved at the pair, pale and sweaty. “Nice shelter, Timmy. Looks like a real Wayne Manor.”

“You guys find water?” Tim asked while Jason tossed coconuts to them.

“Yeah, but that’s not all we found. Show ‘em, Dami.”

Damian pulled out a dirty, weather worn cigarette package and a couple of used cigarette butts. Though the packaging was eroded by the elements, it was clear that the box was fairly new.

“Where did you find that?” Tim asked. He and Jason looked at each other, thoughts of black smoke and angry islanders fresh on their mind.

“Near the freshwater stream we found,” Dick said, taking a seat next to Jason with his coconut.

“Did you—”

“We already searched the surrounding area,” Damian cut in, grabbing a banana from the pile as he did. “We found no other sign of human life.”

The four of them looked at each other in silence. Damian chewed on his fruit, while Dick struggled to cut open his coconut. Sweat streamed down his face, leaving rivulets of dirt behind. The others were filthy too, the salt in their clothes stiffening the fabric and the sand sticking to every visible surface. Tim idly scratched at his arm, while Jason stared wistfully at the empty pack of cigarettes.

“The cigarettes are proof enough: we are not the first ones to be on this island,” Tim said, breaking the silence. “But the question is, are whoever this pack belongs to still here?”

“And are they friendly?” Jason added, ominously.

  
  
  



	6. Worry

“Light, you stupid thing. Light,” Tim muttered to himself.

He had been trying to light a fire with some twigs and kindling for the past twenty minutes, but was not having any success. He angrily threw the sticks aside and flopped on the cooling sand. The shadows from the trees were long, but not long enough to reach him yet at his spot just above the high tide line, though they soon would. The light was slowly fading and Tim needed to get this fire started so they would have warmth and light for the encroaching night. His lone flashlight just wasn’t going to cut it.

With their first day on the island coming to a close, the boys had actually accomplished a lot. Tim had managed to build a shelter and boxes to hold the food the had scrounged up. When it was clear that Damian was not going to die from drinking water, he had constructed waterproof containers from materials he found in the jungle. It wasn’t the prettiest cup in the world, Tim reflected, but it worked well enough with their limited resources.

There had been no sign of life, well no sign of human interference on the island besides the cigarettes. The jungle was buzzing with insects, and birds, and wildlife, but no one approached them, no plane flew overhead, no boat appeared on the horizon. It was a little disheartening, but at least no one was shooting at them. The island was pretty and quiet, a nice break from the noise of the city, though, at times, the roar of the surf and the hum of the jungle was deafening.

The suitcases had dried in the scorching sun, leaving all of the clothes scratchy from the salt, but dry. Dick had lent Jason and Damian t-shirts, though they were a little small for Jason and comically big for Damian. They grumbled, but with a weak glare from Dick, they got over the size, welcome for the clean change of clothes.

Tim was worried about Dick. His skin was flushed—not from sunburn—and he was shivering, teeth chattering. The boys had made their eldest brother take a break from gathering supplies when he had stumbled and dropped a full container of precious water. They made him sit underneath the lean-to and he had barely agreed to it, but his dizzy spell forced him to.

Jason and Damian were in the process of stumbling through the jungle with containers of water, careful not to lose any of the valuable liquid, and empty it into a larger, covered container that would be their supply for the time being. Damian kicked a fern out of his way, cursing in arabic, and lugged the water to the the bigger tub. He poured the water in and glanced around, eyes settling on Tim and narrowing when he saw his brother lying on the sand. He walked over to him and Tim groaned.

“What do you want?”

“Why aren’t you doing any actual work?” Damian asked instead.

“I can’t get the freaking fire started,” Tim said. “Batman taught me when my training first, but it wasn’t the most important thing to remember when you live in the city.”

“Let me try,” Damian said, reaching for the sticks.

Tim had expected a sarcastic reply or a nasty remark, but Damian just took the stick without comment and expertly rubbed it against the block of wood. Soon a small swirl of smoke wafted up and Damian gently breathed on it, encouraging the embers. The kindling fibers soon caught aflame. Damian fed it to the pile of sticks and logs. He stoked the flame until it grew higher and higher, devouring the wood. Tim watched all of this with amazement and envy.

“How did you—”

“My training was not as long ago as yours,” Damian said simply.

He got up and left Tim for Dick, crawling under the lean-to. Jason let out a low whistle from where he was standing by the water. Tim hadn’t noticed his entrance to the beach.

“He sure showed you.”

“Oh, shut it,” Tim said, flopping back on the sand and graoning. Unlike his brothers, he hadn’t strayed too far into the shade of the jungle, so his skin was fried a dark pink. He shuddered to think about the pain he was going to experience in the morning. Jason just laughed at him.

“What’s the matter, Pinky? Did we leave you in the oven for too long?”

“Don’t you have some water to carry?”

“The water tub is almost full and if I have to carry another damned cup of water through that jungle again, I’m gonna shoot something,” Jason replied. His expression was dark.

“You don’t actually have a gun on you, do you?” Tim asked, warily, sitting up.

“No,” Jason said, sullenly. “I didn’t want to risk it with Bruce or the airport security. I don’t know which is more terrifying.”

“Definitely Bruce. The airport can only arrest you, but Bruce is Batman.”

“Too true, Timmy,” Jason said, patting him on the shoulder. Tim winced at the contact. “Green Arrow was marooned on an island once too, right?”

“Yeah. His parents were murdered by his arch nemesis and he was forced to survive on his own for a year before he was rescued. Why?”

“Maybe, when we get back, we can swap pointers with him. We’ll show the Arrow clan how the bats do it better.”

“How’s Dick doing?” Tim asked, rolling his eyes and changing the subject.

He looked over towards his eldest brother. Dick was curled up next to Damian, dozing fitfully, while the younger boy kept watch, eyes on the ocean, searching for civilization.

“The stubborn bastard won’t admit it, but the cuts on his hands are infected. Badly. I think he already has a fever,” Jason replied, shaking his head.

“Go get some more wood and I’ll convince him to sit by the fire.”

“Good luck with that,” Jason said, snorting. “The dick is going to get himself killed.”

Jason pushed himself to his feet with a groan, stretching and popping his back. Tim winced at the sound. Jason walked to the treeline and disappeared into the darkening forest. Tim stood up and walked over to his brothers, feet crunching on the sand. He kicked a sea shell out of his way, before he got to the shelter.

“Dick,” he said quietly, kneeling down. Damian glared at Tim for disturbing their sleeping brother. “Dick, we’re going to move you in front of the fire to warm you up and then I’m going to change your bandages.”

Dick stirred and groaned, batting Tim’s hand away. “S’okay. Just lemme sleep.”

“Come on, Dick,” Tim said. He motioned for Damian to help him. Together, they dragged him to the fire.

“You guys suck,” Dick groaned. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, blinking.

“You’ll thank us later, Grayson.” Damian began unwrapping Dick’s bandages, ignoring his brother’s whimpers. Damian went still at the sight of the infection, red and puckered, oozing pus. After a moment, he finished unwinding the wrappings from Dick’s hands and discarded them.

“Damian, why don’t you cut a shirt up into strips and get a cup of water for Dick,” Tim said, putting his hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. Damian shook off his shock and went to go do as Tim asked, much to the other two boys’ confusion.

“Wow, he didn’t even complain. My teachings of love and brotherhood must be working,” Dick joked, weakly.

“Or he’s scared shitless and you aren’t making anything easier by ignoring your injury,” Tim said, studying the inflamed flesh. At Dick’s hurt expression he added, “Sorry, that was uncalled for. I’m just a little stressed at the moment.”  
“I know, Timmy,” Dick said, wincing when Tim poked at the gash. “I just don’t want you guys to worry anymore than you have to.”

“It’s all right, Dick. Just please, _please_ , let us know if it gets any worse. Babs would kill me if I let you die on some deserted island.”

Dick huffed a laugh. “She wouldn’t kill you. She’d kill me, drop me in a lazarus pit, and then kill me again.”

Damian arrived with the bandages and the water. He handed the cup to Dick and the fabric to Tim, who murmured his thanks.

“Thanks, Lil’ D,” Dick said, beaming at his youngest brother. He drained the cup.

“The best way to clean the cuts would be to wash them in saltwater, which we have plenty of,” Tim said, gesturing the the ocean behind him. “It’ll also bring down your temperature, but—”

“It’ll hurt like bitch,” Jason interrupted, dropping his load of sticks on the sand. Dick jumped.

“Jesus, Jay. You almost gave me a heart attack,” Dick said. “For a dude your size, you don’t make a lot of noise.”

“I was trained by the best, Dickie-bird. Now enough stalling. Let’s stick your hands in some saltwater.”

Dick paled, trying to make an excuse, but Damian stopped him. “Are you scared, Grayson. A little pain never hurt anyone.”

Tim and Dick both rolled their eyes.

“I’m not afraid,” he said, sighing and struggling to stand.

Tim helped him up. They walked as a unit to the water’s edge and Dick eyed it with trepidation.

“Okay, we’re going to wash out the wound as quickly and thoroughly as possible and then I’m going to wrap your hands tightly with the t-shirt. You ready?”

“Born ready,” Dick said, smiling weakly. He stood in the surf, the water swirling around his ankles.

Tim soaked one of the rags in the water and gently dabbed at the cuts. Dick flinched. Jason awkwardly patted his shoulder. Tim continued to wash the hand free of dried blood, sand, and grime. Dick’s face grew more pained and more white as the seconds ticked by. He gasped as Tim finished and began wrapping the clean bandages around Dick’s hand.

All of this was done in silence.

“Well, that went well,” Tim said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Yeah, so well,” Dick huffed out. “I’m going to take a nap.”

“Wait, you should go for a dip, to cool you off,” Tim said.

“Timmy,” Dick said, wearily. “I’m freezing. If I get any colder, I’m going to turn into Mr. Freeze.”

“Har har, funny, Grayson.” Tim touched his brother’s arm and slapped a reassuring grin on his face. “Go sit down.”

“Yes, Doctor Drake.” Dick stumbled back to the fire and collapsed, curling up on himself. The three remaining boys slowly walked back to the fire.

“He’s burning up, isn’t he?” Jason asked quietly. Damian’s eyes widened before looking away.

“You guys should explore the rest of the island tomorrow,” Tim said, watching Dick worriedly. “I’ll stay here and watch over Dick, set up a smoke signal or an SOS sign or something.”

“Sure,” Jason answered. “We looking for anything special?”

“A way off this rock or for whoever left the empty cigarette case. If somebody else is here then they might have a radio and medical supplies.”

“We should take the utility belts,” Damian said. “I don’t like the atmosphere of this place. If we do find people, they might not be amiable.”

“You can take them, but try not to use the weapons if you find people,” Tim warned. “And please exercise restraint. Remember: we crashed as the Wayne kids and that’s who they’ll be looking for.”

 

* * *

 

Bruce groaned and rubbed at his eyes. He was exhausted. He had spent the entire day talking to various police officers and officials trying to find his sons, all in the guise of Bruce Wayne. He was forced to act worried and clueless, while others were in control of the search. That was more tiring than actually being worried. And he was worried, but the Batman was used to keeping his emotions in check, not showing them all willy nilly to whoever asked. Being Bruce Wayne was emotionally draining.

To say that this had been a stressful day would be an understatement.

Alfred was out, buying food and other materials for their impromptu extended stay. Bruce had cancelled their reservation at the resort and had opted for a hotel closer to the city and the search. He had also cancelled his business meeting, annoying the board in the process, but he didn’t care; he was the CEO. Reporters were swarming around outside and blowing up his cellphone, trying to get a quote for their stories. Friend and allies also called to offer support and their help, but Bruce turned most of them away; there was not much they could do besides twiddling their thumbs.

If a bunch of heroes showed up to search for a few missing rich kids, the media would have a field day. He couldn’t even take out his own batplane to search, incase he was spotted, and no matter how much Gotham knew of the Wayne family and the Bats watching over them, he couldn’t risk it. Someone might get lucky and connect the dots.

He was now back at the hotel where the blissful silence greeted him like an old friend. Bruce opened up his laptop and connected it to Oracle’s network. After Superman had failed to come up with any clues, Bruce had tried to call Aquaman, but Arthur was away on kingly business and couldn’t be reached. So Bruce had contacted Barbara instead to find the boys. Oracle’s logo popped up on his screen; after a moment, Babs’ face replaced the computer generated one.

“Talk to me, Barbara.” Bruce Wayne was gone and, in his place, the Bat.

“I’ve got nothing so far. I’m patched into every radio frequency in a fifty mile square radius from the crash site, plus all police, military, and coast guard broadcasts. Nobody’s seen them, but if they do, we’ll know,” Babs said, a hint of worry lacing her voice.

“Satellite imagery?”

“I’m also trying to hack into the satellites; I’ll have them cracked in a few hours,” she promised.

“What about Ms. Lane’s investigation into the human trafficking ring in the area?”

“Not human trafficking—drugs. I’m looking into it. So far all the information I have is what she found. They seem to be concentrated in the area, smuggling cocaine all over the world, but the authorities have never been able to find where they store their product, though they guess on an uninhabited island somewhere in the area. Every member that was arrested has kept their mouths shut and accepted their prison sentence or, if they tried to bargain, they were murdered in creative ways. These guys don’t mess around—they’re brutal and efficient,” Babs said. Her fingers clacked against the keyboard as she typed. “I’m trying to hack into their systems, but that will also take a while.”

“Notify me immediately when you do. If we find them, we may find the boys.”  
“Will do, Bruce. I’m sorry I’m so useless—I haven’t slept in three days.”

“Is Proxy assisting you?” He asked, gruffly. He felt bad for pushing her like this, but the worry tingling in his chest wouldn’t leave him alone.

“I assigned her to help Batgirl in the field, while I’m doing this.”

As if she had heard her name, Stephanie’s face appeared on screen. “Don’t worry, B. Gotham’s safe in my capable hands until you and the birds come home.”

“I wasn’t worrying, Stephanie, but thank you for the reassurances,” he said, with the faintest flicker of a smile. “I expect my city to be exactly as I left it.”

Stephanie grinned sheepishly and rubbed at her neck. “Well…”

Babs shoved her out of the way. “We’ll find them, Bruce. I’m sure they’re surviving just fine.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he said. “All four of them forced to rely on each other for survival is my biggest worry.”

“Just have faith in them,” Steph said, popping on screen again. “Get some sleep in the meantime, you look like crap.” She ducked out of view. Stephanie said something unintelligible to Barbara offscreen and Babs shushed her.

“I’ll update you with anything I find. Oracle out.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair and pinched his nose. He knew his city was in good hands while he was gone, and he was grateful for Batgirl and Oracle to be patrolling. He just wished that he had never suggested a family vacation in the first place. He would blame Alfred for the idea. His old friend had been needling him to spend time with the boys so he thought he could knock out two birds with one stone—he hadn’t meant that literally, though. Now Bruce just had to find his wayward sons.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I suck. It's been a while, friends! Life is my excuse this time for not posting and I honestly forgot about this story until a few days ago, when some lovely people commented and reminded me to finish it. This chapter has been sitting on my drive collecting dusts for months so I think it'll get much more use posted online. I have another chapter on the editing table and I'll have it up in a couple days. Until then!


	7. Contact

Jason cursed and crashed through the undergrowth, almost tripping and face planting on a tree root. He hated the jungle, he hated the beach. He hated family vacations. He liked his nice little apartment in his familiar, crappy city that didn’t try to kill him with dehydration and vicious vegetation. Gotham still tried to kill him, but he could handle the criminals and pollution—it was his norm. The great outdoors were part of the great unknown and he was a city boy at heart.

He had been walking for a couple hours now, hacking a path through the plant life with his knife, trying to find people. So far, he had come up with nothing. No roads, no buildings, no humans. He had found plenty of monkeys and birds, though he was still bitter towards the monkeys for trying to take his bananas—well, their bananas, but he needed them more and frankly, they were being a little selfish.

Dick had woken up that morning in a feverish haze, his temperature rising with the sun. Jason was nominated to haul him to the ocean and dunk him, to bring his temperature down. That had been a disaster for everyone involved—Dick had no idea where he was or who they were, so he fought the entire way to the water and Jason almost drowned him trying to keep him still in the waves. When Dick had finally realized where he was, Tim suggested that Damian and Jason go explore the jungle while Tim tried to help their older brother. Jason took Red Robin’s utility belt and Damian had taken Nightwing’s gloves and off they set, heading in opposite directions. They couldn’t follow the beach because it was blocked by cliffs on both sides, so the jungle it was, much to Jason’s displeasure.

That had been at about ten in the morning. Now, it was closer to one in the afternoon. Jason cursed at some monkeys watching his progress and waved his knife at them. It wasn’t much use as a cutting tool, but it was a nice weapon. They hissed back at him before disappearing in the foliage. Jason was pretty sure that monkeys couldn’t hiss, but shrugged it off—stranger things had happened to him.

Finally, he saw a break in the trees and headed towards it. He slashed a branch out of the way, stepping back onto the beach. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes, making sure what he was seeing was actually real. In front of him was a house; an honest-to-god, manmade building. Jason almost laughed. A man stepped out of the building and did a double take. Jason waved.

“Hi, there,” he said, taking on a friendly tone. “I could use some help. See, my plane crashed and—” The man whipped out his gun, tucked in his waistband, and pointed it at Jason, who stared at it in surprise. “Okay, gotta be honest, I did not see that coming.”

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” The man asked. He was a short, skinny, white man; Jason had about a hundred pounds on him.

“Look, I’m shipwrecked on this island and I need help. There’s no need for this to get messy,” Jason said, raising his hands in a placating gesture, his knife still clutched in his right hand.

“How many others?” The man demanded, shaking his gun at him.

“Just me,” Jason lied.

“I’m sure,” the man said, doubtfully. He called out, “Benny, come here. I found a trespasser.”

He turned to face “Benny”—a tall, dark man—as he walked out the building. Jason saw his chance and took it, throwing his knife and nailing the guy with the gun in the shoulder. The man screamed in pain and Jason spun around and sprinted into the jungle, his heart racing. Bullets whizzed by him, thudding into tree trunks and ripping apart the vegetation. A flock of birds screamed and scattered. Jason hurtled through the path he had hacked just minutes ago. He was running on pure adrenaline, but he had to warn his brothers.

 _At least we know where the cigarette box came from_ , he thought wryly to himself. Jason didn’t want to risk using Red Robin’s belt, partly because he didn’t know how to use the equipment, and partly because he didn’t want to give away all his tricks yet. He had no idea who those guys were or why they would rather shoot first, ask questions later, but they definitely weren’t up to anything good.

* * *

 

Jason made it back to their camp in record time, two hours later, sweating and gasping for air. He broke through the tree line, scaring the life out of Tim. Jason made a beeline for the water container. He gulped down handfuls of water, quenching the fire in his throat. Tim hurried over to him.

“What the hell, Jay? You look like a bat out of hell.”

“Now is not the time to find a sense of humor, Timmy,” Jason said, once he could breathe again. “I found a building and a guy, but then the guy pointed a gun at me and called for someone, another dude, and I got away while he was distracted. Holy _shit_ , I’ve never run for so fast in my entire life.”

“Wait, wait, slow down. What? You found people, but they had guns?”

“Yeah and they weren’t too far behind me. We got ten minutes, maybe fifteen, but I left a trail. We gotta move. Where’s the little demon?”

“I don’t know, he isn’t back yet,” Tim said, looking at the trees, worried. “Dick hasn’t changed, he’s just sleeping. I’ve been dousing him with sea water in the shade every ten minutes.”

“Doesn’t matter, we gotta go. Now. Damian will find us later. Bonfire?” He asked, nodding at a pyre of wood.

“Smoke signal,” Tim answered as he grabbed supplies and shoved them in a suitcase. His burn was neon and Jason felt bad; it looked excruciatingly painful. “The wet leaves will give off a heavy smoke that’ll be seen for miles.”  
“Might as well light it. Maybe the good guys will get to us first.”

Tim nodded and dashed to the small fire that they had kept stoked all night and all day. He grabbed a burning branch and tossed it onto the pyre. It caught fire immediately, the flames licking the dry wood. Jason moved to Dick’s side under the lean-to. He looked at Jason, eyes glassy.

“Jay?” He asked, slurring the word.

“Yeah, it’s me, Dicky. We got trouble; can you walk?”

“‘Course,” he said, struggling to stand. It was a pitiable attempt so Jason scooped him up instead, ignoring the flailing limbs.

“Cut it out, Dick. You’ll just slow us down.”

“What’s happening?”

“Bad guys on our tail, now shush. Despite being a frickin’ acrobat, you weigh a ton,” Jason said, shifting his brother’s weight in his arms. Dick settled into Jason’s arms, disgruntled and scowling. Tim appeared next to them.

“All right. I’m ready, let’s go.”

The noise of a motorized engine reached their ears. Jason turned towards sounds and was horrified to see a boat, complete with an engine and three guys with guns, racing around the cliffs towards their base. It didn’t look like any of the men inside the boat saw them yet. The three boys moved quickly for the forest, leaving the beach behind. Smoke from the bonfire billowed into the clear, blue sky.

Tim led, awkwardly carrying the suitcase and heading towards the direction that Damian had taken in the morning. Jason followed. His muscles were still protesting the exertion he had just put them through, and Dick’s added weight was not making them feel any better. He didn’t complain, though—Dick’s skin was scorching hot to the touch. His head lolled against Jason’s shoulder, completely out and snoring.

Jason and Tim stopped at the same time, their heads whipping around. The noise, or lack of had startled them. The jungle was deathly still, the usual sounds of chatter replaced by the heavy silence. If Jason strained his ears, he could he the crash of waves, but no more engine, no shouting or voices. It was unsettling.

“Run and find Damian. I’ll catch up,” Jason hissed under his breath. His eyes darted back and forth, searching the trees.

“Jay,” Tim warned. He took a worried step towards Jason. “I don’t think we should split up.”

“You’ll have a better chance without me slowing you down. Now, go!”

Tim growled, but he obeyed and took off. Jason continued at a fast pace, sweat pouring off his body. Dick dozed in his arms, whimpering occasionally. They needed to cool him down quick or the fever would kill him before those men even had a chance to.

A gunshot shattered the silence. Birds erupted into the sky. Jason cradled Dick tighter to his chest and sprinted after Tim, panic engulfing him.

He found Tim on the jungle floor, clutching his shoulder, his face white with pain. Blood seeped around his fingers, staining his shirt. The man known as “Benny” was standing above Tim, gun pointed at his head. The other man Jason had seen earlier was also there, gun in hand and bloodstained bandage wrapped around his arm. They had probably come through the forest and the boys had run right into them in their haste to get away from the boat. They turned when Jason crashed through the clearing.

Jason saw red and took a step forward, to murder the men, but Tim shook his head and mouthed, _Wayne_. Jason cursed under his breath. He was seething. He wanted to kick himself, too, for making Tim go on ahead. Jason wasn’t naturally good at the leader stuff like Dick and Tim were.

“Benny, it’s the kid from earlier,” the man said, excitedly. He waved his gun in the air, making Jason nervous. He didn’t seem like he knew just how dangerous it was.

“Yeah, the shipwrecked kid who just wanted your help,” Jason shot back.

“You sunk a knife in my arm!”

“After you threatened me with a gun. Now it looks like we’re even,” Jason said, nodding his head at Tim’s wounded shoulder. “I’ll just take my brothers here and we’ll get out of your hair.”

“Not so fast,” Benny said, stepping away from Tim and pointing his gun at Jason. He probably thought that Tim wasn’t a threat anymore. “You’ve seen too much. We can’t let you leave.”

His finger hovered over the trigger.

“No!” Jason shouted. Dick stirred in his arms. “You don’t have to be so hasty. Look, we got off on the wrong foot, let me start over: Hi, I’m Jason and this is Dick and the _teenager_ you shot over there is Tim.”

Three men came out of the woods, panting. All three were Asian; they all held guns. One of them nodded at Benny and went to his side, while the other two blocked Jason’s escape route.

“I don’t give a shit about what foot we’re on. No one can know that this island exists. Now get over there by your brother and die like a good little castaway,” Benny said, gesturing with his gun.

One of the men came up to Jason and nudged him in the back towards Tim with the barrel of his gun. Jason and Tim looked at each other, silently assessing their limited options. He couldn’t take them out with Dick in his arms and Tim wounded. Though Tim could still cause damage with one arm out of commission, there were too many guns and not enough cover. Jason had never felt so helpless.

Well, that’s not entirely true. He had felt overwhelmingly helpless, when then the Joker had beaten him half to death with a crowbar and then blown him and his mother up, but that’s a different story.

Tim grimaced. “Wait.” He sat up straighter to look at the man in charge.

Benny turned his attention to the younger boy. “Was I talking to you? Keep your mouth shut.”

“We’re the Waynes. Adopted sons of _Bruce Wayne_ ,” Tim said, ignoring Benny and stressing Bruce’s name. Jason stifled a groan. “Our private jet crashed in a thunderstorm and I’m sure our father, _the_ Bruce Wayne, is offering a big reward to whomever brings us home safe and sound.”

“You know Bruce Wayne, right?” Jason cut in, trying to make his voice persuasive. It was hard, considering he wanted to stab them all. “Super, mega rich with fast cars and mansions all over the world. He’s very generous, too, when he rewards people for doing the right thing. You should look up all the donations he’s given to charity. Lotsa cash just sitting in his bank accounts.”

"I've heard of him," Benny said, warily.

"Then you know you'll get paid well for helping us," Tim said.

The men turned to their leader, metaphorical dollar signs in their eyes, awaiting his judgement. He studied the boys quietly, weighing the risks of keeping them alive. Finally, he spoke: “Fine, we’ll ransom you off. No funny business, though, or I’ll put a bullet in the back of your heads. Move it.”

He gestured back towards the beach. One of the men grabbed Jason by the shoulder, to turn him around, but Jason shrugged him violently off.

“I know where it is,” he growled. The men eyed him warily, raising their guns menacingly.

“Jay,” Tim warned again, and Jason really, really wanted him to stop saying his name in that tone. It was getting on his nerves.

“Yeah, yeah.”

The group moved through the jungle at a steady pace. Tim’s shoulder was bleeding profusely and his face was white underneath the sunburn. They needed to put pressure on it or he might bleed out. Jason was straining to put one foot in front of the other. He was running on fumes now and had been for days. He was a big guy; bananas just weren't cutting it for him. Their captors pushed them mercilessly, silently, thinking about the easy cash they were about to make.

There was no way in _hell_ Jason was going to make it easy for them.

They arrived at the beach; Jason’s legs wobbled. The bonfire signal was burning strong, the fire devouring the wood, hungrily. Thick, black smoke streamed high in the sky, able to be seen for miles. At least there was one small blessing in the clusterfuck that was Jason’s life.

“Douse the flames,” Benny ordered.

One of the guys said a quick, “Yes, sir,” before scurrying over to the fresh water barrel.

Jason saw red again, thinking about all of the hard work he and Damian did to fill that thing to the top. The man dragged it over to the fire and tipped it over, spilling all of the precious water onto the flames. The fire went out immediately, though smoke still billowed into the sky. Jason gripped the sleeping Dick tighter, forcing himself to not give into the rage. Tim would kill him if he did anything stupid.

Tim and Jason were lead to the motorboat and Jason almost cried in relief that they wouldn’t have to trudge through jungle again. It was a simple thing—made more for speed, than for extended travel. Once they all got in the boat and the birds had their hands free, they could knock the goons into the water and speed away. They could circle back for Damian and supplies, maybe head back to the building and murder the slimy thugs and then ride the waves out into the sunset. It was good daydream while it lasted.

“Get in the boat,” one man said, nudging Jason in the back.

Jason glared, but stepped in the boat. He gently placed Dick on the floor and his legs shook in relief. He helped Tim into the boat—who was clammy from blood loss—and sat down, landing hard, next to his brothers. Sweat, streaming down his face in shade of the jungle, dried in the sun, leaving him feeling sticky and gross.

He watched the men search through their little camp, tearing it apart. He was glad that Red Robin’s belt was tucked underneath his shirt, hidden from sight. It was a comforting weight around his waist. Jason looked at Tim. Underneath the sunburn, he was pale, clutching tightly at his bleeding shoulder.

“We should tie that off before you bleed to death,” Jason said quietly. Tim grunted in affirmation. Jason turned to the man left to guard him. “Hey, can we get a bandage or something to put pressure on his wound before he bleeds out.”

“Shut up,” the man snarled, his voice accented.

“You’re the ones who shot him!” Jason exclaimed, throwing up his hands. This attracted Benny’s attention.

“What’s going on?” He asked, walking over.

“I want to fix up my little brother, but this douche canoe won’t let me,” Jason said. He got to his feet, muscles screaming in protest.

“Jason,” Tim hissed, too low for their captors to hear.

“He can wait,” Benny said turning away uninterested.

His hold on the gun tightened minutely. Jason saw it, but put his hand on the man’s shoulder, confident he could dodge whatever the man tried. Benny whirled around and tried to smash the butt of his gun into Jason’s temple, but Jason moved under his arm and punched him in the face, breaking his nose. He had forgotten about the other man behind him, though.

“Jason, watch out,” Tim shouted and as Jason turned back around, a gun connected with his face. Jason fell to the belly of the boat like a ton of bricks.

He struggled to stand, but Benny was up—bloody nose and spitting mad—and swinging his weapon. He smashed his gun into Jason’s head, knocking him out. The last thing he thought of, before his vision went entirely black, was that it was a shame they had forgotten their suitcase back in the jungle: the toothbrushes were in it.

 

 


	8. Making Friends

Damian watched from the trees as the boat carrying his brothers pushed off and motored out of sight down the beach. He had already been on his way back to the campsite after finding nothing but trees and wildlife when he saw the smoke. Either something bad had happened, or Drake had deemed it necessary to expose their presence to the whole island, but, regardless, Damian had quickened his pace.

Then he heard the gunshot.

He made it to the campsite soaked with sweat and out of breath. He arrived in time to see Todd be struck down by a tall man, but Damian had been unable to do anything from so far away when the five men trespassing on their camp all had guns.

He felt helpless as the men destroyed their campsite—all of their hard work for nothing. He wanted so badly to take them all out, but then his brothers would be in even more danger if he exposed himself. Damian bided his time by climbing a tree and watching the men from the safety of the leaves. A curious monkey clambered up the tree and perched on his branch, but he ignored the animal as he watched the boat sail away. It disappeared around the cliffs, the opposite direction he had hiked that morning. Jason must have run into them on his exploration.

Damian turned to climb down the tree, only to come face to face with the little monkey. It stared at him curiously, its wide black eyes studying him. Damian wanted nothing more than to stay and make friends with the primate, but he had brothers to save. He shooed the animal from the branches and it hopped away with a screech. Damian swung on his branch and did a flip before landing on the ground below. The monkey followed him at a safe distance, chattering to itself.

The bonfire was now sodden and smoldering, weak puffs of smoke dying in the sky. Damian kept away from it, wrinkling his nose; it was too wet to relight. He surveyed the beach, the destruction, before turning away from it and heading back into the trees. He still had a knife in the waistband of his pants and Nightwing’s gloves on his hands. They were a little large for his small hands, but they held a couple of batarangs and a taser. He had opted to leave the escrima sticks behind.

The tracker hidden inside them was on, but nothing was transmitting. The small light on the wrist was dark where it should be a dull blue. It still puzzled Damian how the signal was being blocked—that was the only explanation he could think of since it's not like the trackers required wifi; they were made by the Bat and used his satellites.  If something was blocking the signal then he and his brothers would have to destroy the source if they had any hope of being rescued. And if he had to guess—he didn’t—those men were responsible for the signal interference.  

Damian turned his back on the destruction of the camp. There was nothing left to help him there. He headed back into the forest, the monkey still trailing him. He stopped and looked down at the little animal.

“Are you going to keep following me?” He asked. The monkey tilted its head curiously at his words, but didn’t respond. It was cute, with brown speckled fur and large, black eyes, and Damian wondered where the rest of its troop was. “I guess you can tag along if you can keep up.”

Damian pulled himself up the nearest tree. The monkey copied him, its movements more graceful. Damian swung to the next branch, hopping through the dense foliage, only choosing the sturdiest branches to land on. The little monkey followed him for a while before racing past him. Damian paused and the monkey looked over its shoulder, as if egging him on for going too slow. Damian laughed and raced the monkey through the trees, keeping an eye on the direction they were going.

The monkey came to a sudden stop and Damian had to grab onto a vine above his head to keep from falling to the ground. When he regained his balance, he saw that they had come to a stop before a troop of chittering monkeys, the same species as his little friend. They watched him curiously and Damian watched them back. Sweat rolled down his face dripped like rain onto the ground below. He raised a hesitant arm and waved.

“Hello,” he said, his voice silencing the chatter.

The quiet unnerved him as all of those little black eyes studied him and he wondered if they thought him hostile, how he should prepare himself for an attack. Then, his monkey friend chattered something to the others and a few came forward to touch his hair and clothes. Damian let them have at it until one pinched his nose and he yelped in surprise. The monkeys laughed and scattered and Damian scowled, rubbing at his sore nose. His friend climbed onto his shoulder and offered him a nut. Damian took the proffered nut, smiling.

“Thank you,” he told the monkey. “You’ve been annoying, but considerate; I’m going to call you Stephanie.”

Stephanie said something in its own language and Damian rubbed its head affectionately. The other monkeys, still aware of his presence, ignored him and went back to their business.

“I have to save my brothers, Stephanie. Will you help me?”

The monkey tilted its head, not comprehending so Damian began his descent to the ground. It scrambled after him, settling into a perch on his shoulder. Damian’s lips quirked up into a small smile, before it fell off his face. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get them out of there in broad daylight when he was outgunned. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gone up against more difficult opponents in the past, but he usually had a bulletproof vest and shadows to hide him. He had to scout the location.

Continuing on foot, Damian vaguely headed in the direction that he expected the islanders’ base to be. A few of the monkeys followed him at a distance before they got bored and turned around. Stephanie perched on his shoulder and combed through his hair. The salt water had made it stiff and dirty. He couldn’t wait to get back to civilization and take a shower. He wasn’t unaccustomed to roughing it in the woods since his training with his Mother had led to several treks in the wilderness and campouts, but he appreciated warm showers and clean clothes, not stiff with salt and sweat.

After a while, Damian heard the crunch of boots and voices. Stephanie bared her teeth at the noise and scrambled up the nearest tree. Damian followed suit, trying to move as silently as he could. He hid in the branches as the voices got closer and he was able to make out the conversation. It was all in mandarin.

“All I’m saying,” one man said, his gun hanging from a strap around his shoulder. “is that we should have killed those boys when we saw them. No good is going to come from them, mark my words.”

The other man rolled his eyes. He looked to be barely older than Drake and he held his gun carelessly, a lit cigarette in the other hand. “You’re too superstitious, old man. Benny knows what he’s doing. We’re going to be so rich after their daddy pays up and then we can get rid of them.”

“You are too greedy. We should just do our jobs like we’re supposed to.”

“Hey, I don’t want to be running drugs for the rest of my life. I got big plans and all of them involve being filthy rich,” the younger one said, flicking his cigarette butt into the brush. The older man shook his head, but continued walking.

Damian smiled; his brothers were still alive.

Damian followed the men at a distance, keeping out of sight, but within earshot to listen to their conversation. They didn’t bring up his brothers again, only chatting about mundane things, but he learned that they were cocaine smugglers and that this island was their storehouse for much of their product. Even though they were patrolling, Damian got the sense that they weren’t worried about any other threats and he wondered if that had something to do with his trackers not working.

Eventually, the men returned to their base—a concrete building that resembled a warehouse. It was quite large, half of it hidden by the trees, and the other half spilling out onto the beach. While the men went through a door in the side after entering a pin number that Damian couldn’t make out, he took to the roof with Stephanie trailing behind him. On the roof, there was an airconditioning unit, a satellite dish, and a large antenna.

Stephanie chittered to him as Damian went up to the dish. He studied it for a moment. There was a keypad at the base and a wire leading through the room to the inside of the building. It seemed to be sending out a signal, but he needed to find out what exactly that was. He tried to gain access to the system, but without a computer console to plug in Nightwing’s decryption tool, he was out of luck.

He had to actually break into the building.

It would be hard with the bright sunlight to stay hidden, but Damian could do it. He moved to the roof access stair and stopped when he heard a scuffling behind him. He turned to see Stephanie trailing at a distance. Damian sighed.

“No, you cannot come with me. It’s too dangerous for you and you would give away my position. You will have to wait out here, Stephanie.”

The monkey stared at him, not comprehending his words.

“Go,” he said, pointing back to the jungle. “Go back to your family while I rescue mine.”

When Stephanie still didn’t move, he made a shooing motion at her and she screeched at him before darting back into the trees. Damian hated to see her go, but it was for the best. With a sigh, he opened the metal door just wide enough for him to fit through, wincing at the squeak it made. It was rusted at the hinges because of exposure to the elements. When no one started shooting, Damian squeezed himself through and shut the door as quietly as he could.

Once inside, he blinked to adjust his eyes to the gloom. The contrast of the cool, dark interior to the dazzlingly bright and impossibly hot outside was mind boggling. The sweat that had been a constant since he arrived on this godforsaken island now cooled on his skin. Damian suppressed a shiver.

He crept down the rest of the stairs, his shoes making little thunks on the metal. He took off his dress shoes—somehow still in one piece despite his swim in the ocean and hike in the jungle. He tucked them away in the corner of the stairwell, clad only in his dirty socks. Now, he made no noise as he got to the bottom. He put his ear to the door and listened.

He heard a low hum of electricity, but no voices. Carefully, he opened the door an inch and peered out. The hallway was relatively clean and lit by fluorescent lighting. It was also empty. Damian quickly slipped through the doorway and crouched, glancing around. It went on in two directions with doors evenly spaced along the walls. Some of them had signs above them, like: Security, Kitchen, Refrigeration.

Damian moved to the door marked Security and put his ear up to it. He heard two voices inside laughing. He clenched his hand in a fist, thinking. He could bust in there and take the two men by surprise. He doubted they would pose much of a threat if he used his taser and if his suspicions were correct, this room would hold computers that controlled the compound.

He glanced up into the security camera at the end of the hall and shook his head. These people were overconfident and lax. If he was in charge, he would have fired the lot of them. Lucky for him, though, it would make his job easier. Damian slipped the little taser out from the pouch in his gauntlets and readied it. He took a deep breath and slammed open the door.

The two guards inside were smoking cigarettes and playing cards, their guns out of reach. Damian leapt at the one closest to him, who had dropped his cigarette in surprise. Damian pressed the taser to his neck and the man was down without any protest. The other man started to yell something, but Damian flipped over the card table and kicked him in the chest. With the wind knocked out of him, the guard didn’t put up a fight as Damian tased him, too. With both of the men out of commission, he quickly glanced out the doorway to see if anyone had heard the commotion.

No one came charging down the hall, guns blazing, so he closed the door, as quietly as he could. The room was small—a bank of computers took up one wall, showing the feeds from all the security cameras in the compound, and a small table sat in the middle where the guards had been shirking their duties by playing cards. Damian smirked as he stepped over the unconscious body of one of the men and headed to the computers. He tucked the taser back into its rightful pouch.

He studied all of the feeds, looking for his brothers. It seemed like there was a camera in every room except for the roof, which he was grateful for. He had been sloppy and exposed, and the only reason he had gotten so far was because these men were too cocky to do their jobs properly. His father would be ashamed if he knew how sloppy he was being. Damian shook his head and concentrated on his task.

He saw a large room with many large windows letting in a lot of natural light and wooden boxes, that he assumed were the drugs. At least four men were in that room, chatting with each other while they watched the product. He also saw himself and he glanced in the corner of the room to see a security camera watching him. He looked back to the screen and studied himself. He looked like a dirty, lost, little boy. Definitely not like the son of a billionaire or sidekick to the Batman. He looked like a castaway.

Movement in the corner of the screen caught his eye and saw Todd pacing back and forth, hands cuffed behind his back, in what appeared to be a meat locker. Drake and Grayson were huddled together, both looking the worse for wear. At least the cold of the room would be keeping the worst of Grayson’s fever at bay. Small mercies, he supposed.

Another monitor caught his eye. Damian ignored the video screens and focused on this one. It had graphs and energy levels and he studied it for a moment, trying to decipher what it all meant. It apparently showed a type of force field being generated around the island, blocking all signals coming in or out and even playing a trick on the human eye, by disrupting how the island itself was perceived. From far enough away, it wouldn’t even be visible. Damian knew that he had to destroy it.

He used the keyboard to scroll through commands, looking for how to shut it down. When he came to the OFF protocol, it demanded a password. Damian cracked his fingers and pulled out Nightwing’s decryption gadget from the gauntlet and plugged it into the computer, sitting back to let it do its job.

As Damian was busy waiting for the password to be cracked, one of the guards woke up. He quietly crawled over to a small button set in the wall by the door and, before Damian noticed him, hit the button. An alarm screeched to life and Damian jumped a foot in the air. He whirled around to see the guard smirking at him. Damian kicked him in the face, knocking him out again. He winced when his vulnerable foot made contact with the man’s face and he despaired for his combat boots, safely tucked away in the Bat Cave. The computer beeped, signaling that the correct password had been entered. It asked him if he was sure if he wanted to shut down the generator.

Damian hit yes.

He yanked the USB out of the computer and ran to the door, hopping over the guard’s body. The alarm was still screaming, giving him a headache. He opened the door and looked out. A man was running towards the control room, looking over his shoulder at something, not seeing Damian. Damian pulled his head back and waited for him to get closer. When he was able to hear the footsteps over the screeching alarm, he leapt out and attacked the man, disarming him and throwing the gun to the ground as he flipped the man over his back. He heard a shout and spun around.

Three more men appeared at the end of the hallway and they pointed at him. Damian quickly turned tail and ran back to the roof access stairs. He heard more shouting as he thrust open the door and sprinted up the stairs. He vaulted over his shoes, sitting neatly where he left them. A bullet embedded itself in the ceiling of the stairwell as the men arrived at the entrance. Damian ducked his head and burst through the door at the top, the three men at his heels.

He was so exposed on the roof, but he didn’t stop running as he zig zagged through the midday heat to the edge of the roof. Another bullet whizzed past his ear. Damian paused for half a second before he threw himself off the roof into the trees, barely catching himself on a tree branch. He was glad for the protection the gauntlets provided, otherwise the skin on his hands would be ripped to shreds. The alarm was just as loud outside as it was inside the building. He heard more shouts and busied himself with disappearing into the foliage as bullets peppered the leaves. One barely grazed his sleeve and another shattered the bark of the tree next to his face.

As he got farther into the jungle, the sound of gunshots and yelling faded and he realized that he was gasping for air. He stopped and rested against a tree, banging his head on the rough wood. He had been so careless and given away the element of surprise. He had been so stupid. How was he going to save his brothers now?

He closed his eyes and focused on controlling his breathing. He felt a trickle of blood drip down the side of his face from where splinters of wood had grazed his face. Damian heard a quiet chattering and opened one eye. Stephanie was sitting on a branch above him with a few of her troop members. She watched him curiously, tilting her head to one side. Damian groaned.

“Not now, Stephanie. Can’t you see that I have a big problem?”

The monkey ignored him and jumped lightly onto his lap. Damian rubbed a hand over her head, patting her absently. Stephanie made an excited noise and took his hand, turning it over. Damian took his hand back to see what she was so excited about and couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. There was a little blue light blinking furiously in the wrist of the gauntlet.

The tracker was back online. Damian laughed and looked at his monkey friend, a plan forming in his head.

“Stephanie, would you like to help me with something?”

****  
  



	9. The Monkey King

Tim rolled his eyes and tried to stop his teeth from chattering.

“Would you please stop pacing. You’re giving me a headache.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jason said, stopping to glare at him. His hands were handcuffed behind his back. “You have a headache? I don’t remember you having a gun smashed across your face.”

“Yeah, well, I have a bullet in my shoulder,” Tim said, dryly.

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Yours,” Tim said, rolling his eyes again. “For telling me to run ahead.”

Guilt spasmed across Jason’s face, but he dropped the conversation and resumed pacing, glancing from the door, to Dick, to the security camera, and back again. It was a tiring pattern that exhausted Tim just from watching.

He tightened his good arm around Dick, who was dozing fitfully, still burning up from a fever. The wound in his right shoulder had finally stopped bleeding because Tim had torn off a piece of his shirt and haphazardly tied it around his shoulder using one hand. The bullet was still lodged in there and the pain was pretty intense, but there was nothing Tim could do about it for now. He decided to focus on other things. Like getting out of there, but Jason’s pacing was maddening.

After Jason had been knocked out, the men had taken the three brothers to their base on the other side of the island. Tim barely got a chance to look at his surroundings before he was manhandled out of the boat, dragged down an air conditioned hallway, and then thrown into the refrigeration room. In Jason’s case, literally thrown because three of the men had to lug his enormous, unconscious frame inside. The leader, Benny, had said it would be good for Dick’s fever to be in the cold and then he had laughed before locking the door behind him. With Jason out for the count and handcuffed—apparently Tim and Dick weren’t threatening enough to be tied up—and Dick delirious, Tim was left alone with his thoughts. He had wrapped his shoulder and then thoroughly explored the room, looking for some way out. He had found a lot of frozen meat, a security camera, and a locked door. That was about it.

He had tried to make Dick comfortable the best he could, but there was only so much he could do with no supplies and a bum shoulder. He had checked the cuts on Dick’s hands, but they were still red and inflamed—not reassuring. Dick had woken up briefly, glancing around, but not really seeing anything except that Damian wasn’t there. When he began to panic, Tim calmed him down by lying and saying Damian was safe. Dick fell back asleep, reassured, so Tim hunkered down and waited for Jason to wake up. While he waited, he thought about Damian and he hoped that the little demon was okay. He hadn’t been captured like them, but for all Tim knew, he could be lying in a ditch somewhere being eaten by monkeys. He hoped it wasn't that; that would be a terrible way to go.

Tim also thought about their situation and why their trackers weren't working. The only possible explanation was that it was being blocked by a powerful signal. If they were lucky, the source of the signal would be in this building. He just needed to get out of here long enough to shut it down.

His eyelashes were beginning to freeze when Jason finally woke up. For his first five minutes of consciousness, he cursed out their captors by yelling at the security camera. Then came the pacing. Tim was half tempted to join him to stave off the cold and keep busy, but he didn’t want to leave the furnace that was his eldest brother. Dick murmured something in his fever sleep, but Tim couldn’t make it out.

“Where do you think the demon brat is?” Jason asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know, probably looking for us.”  
“Fat lot of good that’s gonna do,” Jason said. He bent down and eased his handcuffed arms underneath his legs and pulled them through so that his hands were in front of him. Then he plopped down on the other side of Dick, curling in towards the heat. “Goddamn, Dickie, I knew you were hot, but I didn’t think literally.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I don’t think Damian would be stupid enough to storm an armed compound in broad daylight with no weapons or back up. He’ll probably wait it out until he becomes the king of the jungle or something, Robinson Crusoe style.”

“More like Tarzan. Imagine the brat wearing a loin cloth.”

“Aw, Jay,” Tim said, wrinkling his nose. “I did not need that mental image.”

“It’s my duty as a big brother,” Jason said. “So you don’t think he’ll come?”

“As much as I hate to admit it, Damian is very smart. He’s going to bide his time until it’s the right moment to strike.”

At that moment, a shrill alarm pierced the cold room and Tim sighed, pinching his nose.

“Or not.”

Jason jumped to his feet and helped pull Tim up. He winced at the pain in his shoulder, but ignored it. He tried to put one of Dick’s arms around his shoulder before Jason pushed him away and picked him up instead, awkwardly holding his brother’s body with his bound hands. Jason looked at Tim with alarm when they heard the first gunshot.

“No, no, no, not good,” Tim muttered, going up to the door. He heard more gunshots and prayed that it was a wild animal and not Damian being his stupid, heroic self.

“Break it,” Jason said.

“Yeah, let me break a metal doorknob with my bare hands,” Tim replied.

“Use your foot, asshole.”

“I don’t think you understand that I don’t have the strength to kick open a steel door. I have a bullet in my shoulder and I’m currently freezing to death.”

Jason was about to retort something nasty, but his eyes widened in realization and said, instead, “Wait, I’m still wearing your belt.” He cursed at himself for forgetting something important as Tim quickly rummaged around in his belt for his lockpicks.

“You may have a concussion so don’t worry about it, Jay,” he said as he pulled the lockpick out in triumph.

Jason placed Dick on the ground and held his wrists out to Tim. It only took a matter of seconds for the handcuffs fall free from Jason’s hands. He nodded at Tim gratefully before picking up his older brother again and cradling him to his chest, while Tim began to work on the door. Dick opened his eyes, but they couldn’t focus on anything.

“Bruce? Alfred?” He asked, his words slurring. Jason grimaced and Tim flinched.

“Don’t worry, Dickiebird. We’ll see them soon.”

Dick nodded and closed his eyes again. His head lolled against Jason’s chest. Tim cursed as he struggled with the frozen lock and his numb fingers. The picks slipped from his fingers and Tim wanted to hit something, but he just picked them up and tried again.

“Maybe you should let me pick the lock. We’re gonna freeze to death in here at the rate you’re going.”

“Not helping.”

“Just saying,” Jason said, shrugging. He had to raise his voice to be heard above the alarm. “My fingers are pretty nimble.”

“Maybe your nimble fingers should shut up and let me concentrate,” Tim said, blowing on his fingers to warm them up. Jason rolled his eyes.

“Well, maybe—” Jason began to say when the door was wrenched open and three guns were pointed in their faces. “Ah shit.”

The three men screamed at them in mandarin. Tim barely understood any of it. One roughly grabbed his shirt front and pulled him out into the hallway. The lockpick fell to the floor, but the clatter was lost in the swell of the alarm. One pushed him against the wall, jarring his shoulder, and he cried out in pain. A gun was pressed to his temple as the other men yelled in a mixture of mandarin and english.

“I swear to god if you touch him again,” Jason was yelling back, only prevented from killing the men by Dick sleeping fitfully in his arms and the two guns trained on his chest.

The alarm still wailed. The barrel of the gun was pressed harder into Tim’s skull and he winced before looking at his captor. The man was a young asian boy, barely older than Tim himself, and he looked scared.

“Who was the child that broke in?” He asked, slowly, as if trying to remember the correct english words.

“What child? What are you talking about?” Tim decided to play dumb.

“The child that broke into our computer and shut down our systems. You said it was just you three that crash landed. Who is he?”

So Damian had managed to turn off the signal interference. Smart. Hopefully Bruce would get there by sundown; if Tim managed to keep them alive until then.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, slipping into the role of a scared teenager. “It was just me and my two brothers. Look, my shoulder really hurts and I just want to go home.

“Liar,” the boy accused and turned to the two guards, muttering something in mandarin that Tim couldn’t quite catch. They prodded Jason in the back as Tim was pulled down the hallway by his shirtfront.

They passed by an open door with a wall of computer monitors. One man was unconscious on the ground, while another was being helped up by the white man that had shot Tim. It looked like Damian had managed to take down a few of them before he escaped. Tim couldn’t help but feel proud of his little brother.

The trio were led past door after door before they were pulled through the last one at the end of the hall. They stumbled into the large, bright room, blinking at the sudden sunlight. Benny was there, talking on the phone with someone in fluent mandarin. The alarm suddenly shut off and he snapped the phone shut—a clunky satellite phone with a large antenna. It was probably so big to transmit anything through the block. He motioned with his head for the boys to be brought over to him. He glared at Tim for a moment, thinking. Then his fist shot out and connected with Tim’s jaw.

Tim hit the ground, dazed, as Jason and Dick were forced to their knees against a stack of wooden crates. Jason was not happy with watching Tim get hit, readying himself to start throwing punches, but Tim put out a hand to say that he could handle the situation. Propping himself up on his good arm he spit blood onto the concrete floor and rubbed his jaw. It hurt like hell, but he had been hit harder. Benny roughly picked him up by the front of his shirt and pulled his face so close that Tim could smell the faint scent of mint, trying to mask the cigarette smoke on his breath.

“Who is the other boy on the island?” He asked.

Tim attempted to look confused. “I don’t understand why you guys keep asking that. I don’t know of anyone else here.”

“Don’t play dumb, kid. That little shit snuck into our systems and turned them off. We were vulnerable for ten minutes. If anything compromises our operation,” Benny warned. “It will be your life that pays the price. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Now, I’m going to ask you again, and if you lie to me, I’ll shoot the big one in the face,” Benny said, gesturing to Jason with one hand, still gripping Tim’s shirt.

Jason scowled, but Tim answered before he could say something stupid. “I was never lying—we’re the shipwrecked adopted sons of the billionaire Bruce Wayne. My brother over there is very ill and we just want to go home without any trouble.”

“See,” Benny said, wagging a finger in Tim’s face. “I still think you’re lying. How do I know that you weren’t sent here to spy on our operation or steal any of our product? I don’t think a simple teenager could manage to pick the lock on handcuffs. Maybe you have Interpol waiting out of sight, ready to arrest us. I don’t know if I can take the risk.”

“There’s nothing to risk,” Tim said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “We aren’t dangerous, we just need help to get home.”

Benny narrowed his eyes, weighing the honesty of Tim’s words. Tim held eye contact with him, minutely moving his fingers, hoping Jason saw. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jason nod slightly and reach his hands under his shirt. Message received.

“You know what, damn your rich father. My boss will have my head if I don’t fix this mess,” he said. “Line them up.”

“Wait,” Tim said, but another man grabbed him and forced him to his knees next to Dick, facing the crates.

Jason was roughly faced the same way and Dick was pulled into a kneeling position. This woke him up and he blinked heavily, entirely confused at the situation. Tim glanced at Jason as three men took up position as a firing squad. Jason cocked his head in a question and Tim nodded, mouthing, I got him.

“Sorry, boys,” Benny apologized, but he didn’t sound sorry at all. “My paycheck is more important and I think all my boys will agree with me.” The men laughed and nudged each other, backing up their leader.

Their executioners cocked their weapons and Tim could hear the faint click in the tense silence. The men were so confident that they placed their weapons about an inch away from their targets and Tim smiled. It would almost be too easy to disarm them.

As he was getting ready to throw himself on top of his vulnerable brother, a window shattered. The men looked around in confusion. Another window shattered. And another. A menacing child’s laugh echoed through the room. The men pointed their guns in all directions, trying to find the source. Tim looked at Jason and rolled his eyes while Jason suppressed a laugh. Dick’s theatrics had rubbed off on Damian.

“Show yourself,” Benny shouted, pulling out his gun. He looked nervous.

Damian laughed again. Tim tried to follow his movements, but he couldn’t place the voice. He heard a lot of tiny footsteps that sounded like more than one person was running around, but he summed that up to the echo playing tricks on him. Batarangs appeared out of nowhere, knocking guns from a few of the men’s hands. Now the men were panicking, grouping closer together. One tried to head towards the door, but a knife embedded itself in his foot. He screamed in pain, dropping his gun, trying to yank the knife out. When it was free, he crawled back to his friends. The men were, effectively, corralled in the center of the room.

Then, Damian appeared on a crate near the windows. The son illuminated his body, but his face was cast in shadow. He had black war paint smudged on his face and twigs in his hair and, with his manic grin and gleaming eyes, he looked absolutely feral. The men paused as Damian laughed again throwing his arms out wide.

“You will regret messing with the Monkey King’s brothers,” he said, cackling as an army of monkeys poured in through the windows and popped up among the crates. One hopped onto Damian’s shoulder, looking regal with the sun glinting gold in its brown fur.

The primates chattered menacingly at the men with guns, waiting for Damian’s command. The men, too, waited for their leader’s command. Benny looked dumbfounded, but he quickly gathered himself.

“Kill the kid,” he yelled.

“Attack!” Damian shouted at the same time, pointing his finger at Benny.

The monkeys flew into a fury of teeth and fur. Men screamed and shots were fired, but those sounds were lost in the cacophony of thirty screeching monkeys. Damian leapt out of harm’s way and disappeared.

Instead of figuring out how Damian had found so many monkeys, Tim used the guards’ distraction to grab Dick and pull him to the side, out of the way of stray bullets. Dick was just aware enough to help Tim by allowing himself to be led. Jason followed, pushing Dick around the side of the crate until all three of them were out of sight. Tim helped Dick stand on his feet and Jason held him on the other side. Together, they made their way down the narrow space between the crates.

“What the hell?” Jason asked.

“Don’t look at me,” Tim said.

“Why did Damian have a monkey on his shoulder?” Dick asked.

“Because I’m the Monkey King,” Damian said, hopping down from a crate. He landed in front of them and put his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest. “And I’m here to save your sorry butts.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been glad to see you,” Tim said. “But there’s a first time for everything.”  
“Ditto,” Jason said, ruffling Damian’s hair. A few sticks came loose and fell to the concrete. The paint on his face was just dried mud, streaked through with sweat.

The monkey that had been on his shoulder peeked down at them from the box Damian had just appeared on. It chittered nervously, but Damian gestured at it to hop on his arm. It did so and snuggled against his neck. Then it stared at the three boys with unblinking black eyes. Tim felt unnerved. Gun shots and the screeching monkeys still raged on behind them.

“Stephanie, this is Drake, Todd, and Grayson,” Damian said, pointing to each boy in turn.

“You named a monkey after Steph?” Jason asked. “I can’t wait to tell her—she’ll piss herself laughing.”

“Okay, enough introductions,” Tim said, handing off the entirety of Dick’s body weight to Jason. “We still have to get out of here.”

“Follow me,” Damian said. He led them through a maze of boxes and crates, to a door at the back of the room. “I managed to turn off the island’s interference so our trackers would work for a short time. Hopefully, father managed to pinpoint our location before it was turned back on.”

“Nice work, Dami,” Dick said, smiling at his little brother. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were glassy, but at least he was awake.

Damian blushed with the praise, but just opened the door. They were hit with a wall of heat and salty air as they stepped onto the beach. The ocean greeted them with a roar, drowning out the sounds of fighting behind them. Jason helped Dick walk as he stumbled along and Tim shielded his eyes against the setting sun. He thought he saw a shape on the horizon, but that could have been his eyes adjusting to the light.

Stephanie turned back towards the door and bared her teeth. She flung herself off Damian’s shoulder, ignoring his protests as she attacked Benny, who had appeared in the doorway after them. He had scratches and bite marks all along his arms and his face was clawed and bloody. Benny grabbed her by the neck and threw her into the sand, pointing his gun at her. She made a pained screech before falling silent and still.

As he was about to pull the trigger, Damian shouted, “No!” and Benny turned, firing on the him instead. Time slowed down as Tim watched the bullet leave the gun’s chamber in a flash of light and enter Damian’s body through his chest. He saw Damian fall in slow motion as Dick lunged to catch him. Jason threw one of Red Robin’s throwing disks. The disk connected with Benny’s gun and sent it spinning into the sand as Jason attacked Benny.

Tim tore himself away from the scene in front of him and focused on Damian lying prone on the ground, Dick leaning over him. Time snapped back to normal, but Tim wished that it hadn’t because Damian’s blood was quickly soaking the sand a bright red.

Damian’s breathing was raspy and he coughed up blood, swiping at it with a weak hand. Dick had put his hands on the wound and applied pressure to it, but his own strength was leaving him. Tim pushed him away, not bothering to be nice about it as he took over applying pressure. He ripped off his shirt and wadded it up, pressing it into the wound. The bullet had missed his heart completely, but it seemed to have nicked a lung.

There wasn’t much Tim could do besides stopping the bleeding. Everything felt so futile: the criminals would regroup and kill them all. Bruce wouldn’t even be able to find the island, let alone the bodies to bury. Despite his dark thoughts, Tim kept the pressure on Damian’s chest as blood began to seep through his shirt. He was dimly aware of a familiar sound—the sound of a fist against flesh.

“He’s going to kill him,” Damian said, weakly. He coughed, wetly, face spasming in pain. “Father won’t be pleased.”

“Shut up,” Tim said. “Save your strength.”

Tim looked over his shoulder to where Jason was beating Benny to a bloody pulp. Rage took over his mind and all Tim wanted was to see the man dead, but he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. When he opened them again, he didn’t see red.

“Jason, stop. You can’t kill him,” Tim said, calmly.

“Who’s going to stop me,” Jason said, continuing the beating.

“Bruce would—”

“Fuck Bruce,” Jason snarled. “Fuck him and his twisted morals. This piece of trash shot Damian, caused you and Dick a lot of pain. He deserves to die.”

“I want him to die, too,” Damian said, sitting up. Tim tried to push him back down, but Damian simply glared at him. “But killing is against our code; I learned that the hard way. But it is wrong and you’re one of us now.”

Damian collapsed to the ground in a coughing fit. Jason cursed, punched Benny in the face one more time and then dropped the unconscious man to the ground before making his way over to his brothers. He took over for Tim by taking his own shirt off and stuffing it over Tim’s bloodsoaked one, keeping the pressure. Damian winced with pain, but said nothing.

Tim turned to help Dick, who had also collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. He put a hand to his brother’s forehead and recoiled in shock. He was burning up worse than before. Tim was about to try and wake him up when he heard the unmistakable sound of helicopter blades. The steady thump, thump, thump was music to his ears. He looked up and, about a mile out to sea, two black helicopters approached the island.

“Jay, look.”

“Oh, thank god,” Jason said. “I swear to god if you die on me now demon spawn, with help so close, I’ll throw you in a lazarus pit and kill you again.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Todd,” Damian said, weakly.

Tim stood and waved his uninjured arm at the approaching aircraft, trying to get their attention. The two helicopters landed a hundred yards down the beach, but the rotors whipped the sand into a frenzy and Tim had to shield his eyes. A team of armed South African Navy Men exited one helicopter and approached them while a team of medics exited their craft and rushed toward the boys. They began to work on Damian and Jason let them, willingly. He fell onto his back, closing his eyes in relief. The leader of the men approached Tim and he stood to meet him.

“My name is Lieutenant Commander Braugher. Are you the lost Wayne boys?”

“Yes, we are,” Tim answered, grinning. He held out his hand and shook the lieutenant’s forgetting that his hands were still dripping with his brother’s blood. “We are very glad to see you. How did you find us?”

“We got a tip that a group of wanted drug runners were hiding out on this island and that you may have been shipwrecked here. We’ve never been able to find the place because it was shielded from satellite somehow, but our tip included coordinates. Do you mind telling me what happened, Mr. Wayne?”

“It’s a long story, Lieutenant. Can we make sure my brothers are all right first?”

“We’ve brought a team of Navy medics and our ship is not far off,” he said, gesturing to the ocean where a ship had appeared on the horizon. “They should be fine. Your father is waiting back at port.”

Tim slumped with relief. “Thank you,” he said, meaningfully. “We owe you our lives.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Wayne. We’re just doing our job.” Lieutenant Commander Braugher saluted Tim and joined his men who were preparing to storm the building. Tim couldn’t wait to see their reactions when they found the scene inside.

He turned to look at his brothers. Damian was being lifted into a stretcher, two doctors working furiously on him as he was carried to the helicopter. Jason was talking to a doctor, while supporting Dick’s weight as his brother leaned heavily on him, struggling to stay awake. Jason was gesturing wildly, but the doctor listened carefully. A glint in the sand caught Tim’s eye and he turned to pick it up.

In his hand, he held his throwing disk, slightly warm from the sun. He heard a quiet sound, like a polite cough and looked to see Damian’s friend, Stephanie, staring at him expectantly. Her black eyes met his curiously. She seemed to be fine, not hurt at all and Tim was glad. He knelt to the sand and held out the throwing disk to her.

“Thank you,” he said.

Stephanie looked at the shiny object in his hand and took it gingerly, before scurrying away to the safety of the jungle. Tim would have to let Damian know that his friend was all right, when he got better. With one last look at the jungle, Tim turned his back on it and joined his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to go!


	10. Recovering

It had been three days since Bruce’s sons had been rescued and he had never felt more relieved. When he had gotten word from Oracle that the boys’ trackers had come online for a little over ten minutes, he immediately—and anonymously—called key figures in the police and navy and gave them the coordinates, hinting that criminals and the lost Wayne boys might be at that location. It had taken the message fifteen minutes to be verified and another twenty for a rescue team to be assembled. He had sat in his hotel room, figuratively biting his nails, unable to do anything that would give away his identity.

It killed him to stay on the sidelines.

If only they had gone missing as their alter egos, then he could have sent Superman in to save the day, but, of course, his luck was nonexistent. He waited two tense hours for the phone to ring and tell him that his boys were safe. Alfred sat with him in silence, worrying just as much as he was. When the call finally came, he almost broke the phone in half. Damian had been shot in the chest, Dick had a hundred and two fever from infection, Jason had a concussion, and Tim had been shot in the shoulder.

He lucky they were alive.

Alfred had already readied the car while he was on the phone and they left as soon as Bruce hung up. They made it to the hospital in record time, just in time to see Damian being wheeled into emergency surgery, pale and unconscious. Bruce was ushered away, despite his protests, and pushed into a waiting room where he demanded to see his sons. A flustered nurse took his threats with as much calm as she could muster, but finally let him through after an okay from a doctor.

Bruce had burst into a private room to find three of his sons in bed, fast asleep. They had been bandaged and cleaned and fed, and Bruce had been told that the exhaustion took hold despite their best efforts. Dick looked extremely pale and still laying in that big bed, but a nurse assured him that they had been able to keep his fever under control and he was going to be okay. Tim was the opposite—badly sunburned, redder than Bruce had ever seen him. His arm was bandaged into a sling, but his face was peaceful as he slept. Jason had bandages wrapped around his head and he had broken a finger in his right hand.

Alfred had pulled up two chairs and they sat together, next to the beds, waiting for them to wake up. Tim was the first, fighting wakefulness, but finally his eyes opened and focused on his two father figures. Bruce had tried to get him to fall back asleep, but Tim had wanted to tell him everything. From the crash, to drifting on the wing, to landing on the island and making camp, to being captured, and to being rescued by Damian. Bruce didn’t say it outloud—listening to Tim’s story in silence—but he was so proud of his sons for working together and surviving.

Now, three days later, Bruce hung up the phone on Clark. He had asked Superman to go to the island and pick up all of the items left behind that could link the Waynes back to the Bat. Clark had just called him back to say that he had gathered up all of the weapons and suits the boys had left and was en route to the Bat Cave. He also made Bruce promise to tell the boys hello for him.

As he tucked his phone back into his pocket, Tim walked into the room, his arm still in a sling. His sunburn was not as severe anymore, fading to a dull pink. He had barely been allowed to leave his hospital room, despite his best efforts. Between Alfred and the nurses, all of the boys had been forced to stay in bed and rest. Jason, however, had snuck out the first chance he got to buy cigarettes.

“Hey, Bruce. Alfred told me to tell you that Damian woke up. They moved him to a regular room and he’s ready for visitors.”

The tightness in his chest that had been there since the boys disappeared finally dissipated at the news. “Thanks, Tim. How are you feeling?”

“Great,” Tim said, but Bruce could tell he was still in a lot of pain despite the pain pills.

“Liar, but I’ll let it slide,” he said, ruffling Tim’s hair on the way out and ignoring Tim’s squawk of indignation.

Tim led the way to the ICU where Damian was staying. He had been asleep ever since he got out of surgery, his brain forcing him to recover from the trauma of having one of his lungs punctured and almost bleeding out. He was lucky that the medics had arrived as quick as they did or he’d be dead. They had considered keeping Dick in the ICU as well, but once his fever broke, he recovered remarkably fast. His hands were still in pain and he was sleeping most of the day, but he wasn’t dying anymore.

Bruce stopped in the doorway to Damian’s room, allowing Tim to enter first and settle in on the couch. Being rich had its perks and private hospital rooms with real furniture was one of them. Jason was already sprawled on the couch and only moved over when Tim kicked him in the shin. He grumbled and shifted over, leaving a space big enough for Tim. His head wasn’t bandaged anymore, but his right hand was in a cast. When Bruce had asked how he broke his finger, Jason had quickly changed the subject.

Dick was sitting in a wheelchair next to Damian’s bed talking to the boy. Alfred stood on the other side, studying Damian’s charts.

“Lil D, you were amazing. I was only awake for some of it, but I saw those theatrics. If you ever want to give up crime fighting you could become an awesome child actor,” Dick said, grinning.

“That’s preposterous,” Damian said, his voice raw from having a tube stuffed down his throat. “If I were to hang up the cape, then who would be there to change Drake’s comm frequencies to the country station during patrol.”

“I knew that was you, you little brat,” Tim said from the couch, but there was no real malice in his voice. For now, everyone was on good terms with each other, still shaken up from what could have happened.

Bruce chuckled and Damian looked at him in surprise. “Father,” he said.

“Damian,” Bruce said, walking into the room. He took a seat in the unoccupied chair next to the bed. “It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine; I’ve had worse,” he said.

“I know, but I’m glad you’re okay. I’m glad all of you are okay,” Bruce said, addressing the other boys as well. “You really had me worried there for a while.”

“Aw, daddy bats was worried about us,” Jason said.

“We’re fine now, B, thanks to the Monkey King over here,” Dick said, gesturing at Damian. “Our brains would probably be all over that warehouse if him and his army of monkeys hadn’t saved us.”

“I’m impressed,” Bruce said, smiling at his youngest son. “How did you manage to harness an entire pack of monkeys?”

Damian blushed at his father’s praise. “It wasn’t that hard.”

“Damian’s a regular Disney princess,” Jason chimed in, smirking.

Tim snorted. “Which one?”

“I’d say it’s a tie between Snow White or Cinderella.”

“Did you sing to them?” Tim asked.

“No,” Damian said, glaring. “I did nothing of the sort.”

“Then he’s Cinderella because Snow White sang to the animals to get them to do stuff.”

“No, Cinderella definitely sang to the mice,” Dick said, butting in.

“Who else had singing animal friends?”

“There was no singing involved,” Damian said, affronted by their accusations.

“Okay, but no one kissed you to bring you back to life, so that gets rid of Snow,” Jason said.

“Maybe you should have, Jay. You might have the lips of life,” Dick said, grinning.

Jason glared. “Why don’t we test that theory—I’ll throw you off the roof and then kiss you. If you live, you were right. If not, well then we know why you’re named Dick.”

“Okay,” Bruce said, cutting in. “Alfred is in the room, which means everyone needs to play nice.”

“For every insult uttered in my presence, I restrict cookie privileges,” Alfred said, deadpan, his eyes sparkling with humor.

The boys grumbled to themselves, not willing to risk it. Damian’s eyes fluttered shut before he could catch himself and he rubbed at them, trying to keep them open. Bruce watched in amusement, impressed at his son’s determination. However, he was still injured and needed his rest.

“I think this has been enough excitement for one day,” Bruce announced, standing up. “You need rest if you’re ever going to get better.”

“But, Father, I’m not tired,” Damian protested, trying to sit up. He winced in pain. “I just woke up.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the doctor’s orders.”

Damian crossed his arms and tried his best not to pout, but failed miserably.

“We’ll visit you later,” Jason said, standing up and stretching. Something popped in his back and he sighed with pleasure.

“And we’ll bring ice cream,” Dick whispered, conspiratorially.

Alfred gave him a disapproving look, but said nothing as he took the handles of Dick’s wheelchair and wheeled him out of the room. Tim and Jason followed after, quietly bickering to each other. Bruce moved to follow, but Damian’s voice caught him.

“Could you stay, Father. I… I don’t want to be alone right now,” he said, quietly.

“Of course,” Bruce said.

He pulled up a chair and settled in while Damian sank back into his pillows. Bruce was about to say something, but when he looked up, Damian was already fast asleep. Bruce simply smiled and sat there in comfortable silence, guarding his son as he slept.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It's finally over. I'm not going to lie, this story has been hard to write because I lost motivation to continue many times throughout, but I am so, so grateful for everyone who kept reading and liking and commenting. You guys are real troopers! Thanks so much for bearing with me. I hope everyone enjoyed the story and if not, thanks for reading anyway!


End file.
